

i!p^ 3531 ,i|r^ 

'1914 

Copy 1 



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Cc^S>>^gi^*C?=^t?-^gi^/^^v«S^^t?*€\JO>^ 



As a Woman 
Thinketh 






tj Ji-'ii --'■- 



■-6 ■ DENISON & (5;0J«1PANY CHICACQ • 



DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS 

Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Large Catalogs 
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As a Woman Thinketh, 3 acts, 

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T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers, 1 54 W. Randolph St., Chicagc 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH 



A COMEDY OF THE PERLOD 
IN THREE ACTS 



BY 

Edith F. A. U. Painton 

AUTHOR OF 

'A Prairie Rose''' and ''A Burns Rebellion''' 




CHICAGO 
T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

Publishers 

f 1 Ca \ /, \ 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. Y'-^'c'- 

Charles William Weeden.../m^^ an Every-day Husband 

Rev. Dunning A Pastor of the Past 

Will Weeden The Son, Inclined to be Wild 

Caleb Mead Olive s Husband, Always in the Shade 

Jack Philley ' Beth Weeden s Old Playmate 

Charles Whitney, othenvise "Chip'' 

An Alleged Diamond in the Rough 

JoTHAM The Man of All Work 

Dr. Hume The Weedens' Family Physician, 

Not Quite an Old Fogy 

Prof. Baba Majarajah....^ Hindu Lecturer on Psychology 
Mrs. Ida Jeanette Weeden 

Charles Wife, a Mother of the Period 

■r^^^^ \ The Wcedens' Daughters 

Olive Mead The Wcedens Married Daughter, 

Always in the Swim 

Mrs. Gertrude Parker. .Mrs. Weeden' s Best Friend, 

Secretary of the Modern Science Club 

Mrs. Dunning. . .'.r/z^ Pastor's Wife, an Italicized Echo 
SuKE. The Colored Cook Who Has a Taste for the Beautiful 

Place — Here, There or Anyzvhere. 

Time — Nineteen Hundred and Now. 



Time of Playing — About Tzvo Hours and Thirty Minutes. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I — The Weedens' Sitting-Room. Monday nioniin^. 
Resolution. *""'. '- 

Act II — The Breakfast Room. Tuesday Morning. Rev- 
olution. 

Act III — Same as Act I. An Afternoon. Three Weeks 
Later. Evolution. 

Notice — Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the sole 
professional rights are reserved by the Publishers. 

COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY EBEN H. NORRIS. 

JAN 22 1914 
©CLD 35715 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 



COSTUMES. 

Modern up-to-date costumes, suited to characters repre- 
sented. 

SuKE AND JoTHAM — In grotcsquc attire to taste of per- 
formers. 

Prof. Majarajah — Appears in Oriental costume, with 
turban, scarlet sash, etc. 



SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. 

Act I — Mrs. Weeden undertakes to clean up. Jotham 
hunts a step-ladder and Mr. Weeden unloads a bit of his 
mind. A call from the pastor and his wife reminds the 
mother of her duty. "You are responsible for your family." 
Some startling family revelations. Chip introduces himself. 
Suke undertakes to "borrow" a few things and Olive secures 
some of her belongings. Jack finds a discarded glove. Mrs. 
Weeden meets a real Plindu and learns of a new philoso- 
phy. Her declaration of independence. 

Act II — The campaign opened. Jotham discovers what 
a fine mind he has and th.e whole family learn of virtues 
they were entirely unaware of possessing. The "subcon- 
scious mind" at work. Mr. Weeden airs his mind, but Mrs. 
Weeden smiles serenely on. The suspicions of the family 
are aroused. "Papa, what ails her?" Suke becomes sur- 
prisingly honest. "Are you all right. Mamma ?" Chip learns 
what a fine fellow he is. "Jotham can do anything — yes, 
anything!" The professor helps "drive the nail." Jack 
promises to be patient, and the pastor and his wife make 
a call of condolence. Suke returns a quantity of borrowed 
property and the doctor gives some disturbing professional 
advice. "Love save my soul." "According to your faith." 

Act III — Birthday celebration. Beth is undecided in her 
love affairs. Caleb and Jotham display surprising ingenuity 
and am.bition. The pastor and his wife come to investigate 
the strange rumors they have heard. Olive's economy ex- 



4 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

cites comment. "Chew gum? — iigh !" ''It's a miracle — a 
real miracle!" Chip's villainy is discovered and Beth learns 
her mind. Mrs. Weeden learns that she has been duped by 
an impostor. "Whoever he was, he was a Hindu to me !" 
Jack's patience is rewarded. "My poor lost glove !" 



STORY OF PLAY. 

Mrs. Weeden, a mother of the period, a slave to her house 
and family, attempts to clean up her disarranged sitting- 
room, and in the course of the morning's work learns sev- 
eral things to the disadvantage of her family. Her ideals 
meet with several serious falls when she is brought face to 
face with her husband's ill temper, her eldest daughter's 
extravagance, Beth's taste for improper company, Dolly's 
addiction to the use of slang and chewing gum and Will's 
use of cigarettes, to say nothing of Jotham's stupidity, 
Suke's dishonesty and her son-in-law's shiftlessness. A visit 
from the secretary of the Modern Science Club, who intro- 
duces a Hindu lecturer with many modern ideas and ideals, 
arouses her to a desire to make her family over to her taste, 
and she immediately puts the resolution into operation, to 
the great amusement of the observers but to the entire suc- 
cess of her plans and the final happiness of all concerned, 
unless it may be the pastor and his wife, who are but relics 
of a bygone age anyway. Each character is a distinct indi- 
vidual and each and everyone has a hand in the comedy, 
which ends, not as it for a time threatens, in an insane 
asylum, but in a renewed honeymoon and happy home. 



PROPERTIES. 

Act I — Several sheets of newspaper, broom, scissors, 
scraps of paper, copy of "Ladies' Home Journal" with pic- 
tures cut out, handkerchiefs, aprons, neckties, collars, slip- 
pers, rubbers, suspenders, vest, caps, jacket, purse, veil, 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 5 

red hair ribbon, cud of gum, hairpins, hair 'Vat" and puffs, 
pipe, comb, belt, etc. Cigarette for Will. Gloves, etc. 

Act II — Broken chair for Jotham. Dishes, eatables, spoon, 
etc., for Suke and family. Coats, caps, toys, aprons, etc., 
on lounge. Cap, jacket, ballbat, ball, books, etc., for Will. 
Newspaper for Mr. Weeden. Empty purse for Dolly. Book 
for Jack. Lace handkerchief, black scarf, blue ribbon, white 
apron, fancy hairpin, scarfpin, charm, dollar and miscella- 
neous articles in bunch for Suke. Hat, gloves, overcoat 
and muffler for Mr. Weeden. Gum for Dolly. Cis^arettes 
for Will. 

Act III— Flag for Caleb. Step-ladder for Jotham. 
Bracelet for Suke. Flowers for Dr. Hume. Sunflowers tied 
with large bow of bright red ribbon for Jotham. Two vases, 
hat, jacket, and gloves for Mrs. Weeden. Glove for Jack. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 



STAGE SETTINGS. 



Acts I and III. 




Fire-place 




Lounge 



.'^Telephone 
Door to Hall 



Chair D 



I. 



Act II. 



Chairs 

Don 



Table 



— I Door I — 
to Kitchen 



Archway 
D Chair Curtains 
"Door to Sitting Room} 
Broken Chair A 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right of the stage ; C, center ; R. C, right cen- 
ter; L., left; 1 E., first entrance; R. 3 E., right entrance 
up stage, etc.; U. E., upper entrance; R. D., right door; 
L. D., left door, etc. ; D. F., door in flat, or scene running 
across the back of the stage; up stage, away from foot- 
lights; down stage, near footlights; 1 G., first groove, etc. 
The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH 



Act I. 



Scene: Sitting-room at the Weeden home. Table, C, 
literal^ covered zvith articles of wearing apparel, books, 
strings, etc., in helpless confusion. Chairs loaded and clut- 
tered in a most disorderly heap. Rugs in a pile on floor. 
Nezvspaper in several scattered sheets, a broom, scissors 
and scraps of paper, copy of '•Ladies Home Journar with 
pictures cut out, handkerchiefs, aprons, neckties, collars, 
streivn over piano and floor, chairs and lounge. Under the 
lounge, slippers, rubbers, suspenders, caps, jackets; purse 
hanging on arm of chair, veil over back of another, etc. 
Motto, ''Home, Sweet Home,'' hanging awry over arclnvay 
at C. entrance, where portieres are draped. Doors R. and 
L. See Scene Plot for stage setting. 

As curtain rises Mrs. Weeden stands just inside por- 
tieres, with hands on hips surveying scene ruefully and 
shaking head in despair. 

Mrs. W. {after despairing pause). O dear, dear, dear! 
Did anybody in all this world ever see such a looking 
house! And this is only one room! Multiply it by twelve 
and add bathroom, pantry and wardrobe and— O dear, dear, 
dear! (Advances to pile of sofa cushions at foot of lounge 
and begins to dust them vigorously, piling them on big 
armchair.) I declare, I just don't know where to com- 
mence. Love save my soul! (Looks around again as though 
in utter despair, then goes R. entrance and calls.) Suke ! 
Suke! O Suke! ^^. , ^^^. ^ 

Suke (off R. after a pause). Y-a-a-a-s, Missus! (Sticks 

head in.) i • • 

Mrs. W. Do come right into the sitting--room this min- 
ute and — . /Tr/-x; 

Suke. Yaas, Missus— in des a minute. Missus! (With- 
draws head.) 

7 



8 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. {unloading chairs and piling things on lounge). 
It just seems to me that I can pick up, hang up, sweep up, 
wipe up, from morning till night, and then go to bed leav- 
ing things in no better shape than when I got up. (Sighs.) 
Not a bit! And 'tisn't as if I was brought up that way, 
either. If mother could only see me now. It's just enough 
to make that dear old saint turn over in her grave in holy 
horror. (Sighs again and begins to pick things up from 
the floor and piles them, too, on lounge.) Charles' news- 
paper, Beth's slippers. Will's jacket. Humph! If here isn't 
Olive's purse she left over here last night ; and her veil, 
too. Dolly's brand new red hair ribbon, Beth's collar, the 
scissors. Will's been cutting out pictures again on the car- 
pet, I see — and out of my new ^'Ladies' Home Journal," 
too, that I haven't had a minute to read. O dear, dear, dear 1 
And what's this stuck fast to the corner of the table ? Dolly's 
gum — gum, as I'm alive ! O dear, dear, dear ! And look at 
those hairpins of Beth's on the piano! And what's this? 
(Holds up hair ''rat" and puffs.) Love save my soul! 
(Bloivs top of piano and dust rises in thick cloud.) They 
must have had a feast on the piano stool. Cracker crumbs, 
cake, orange peeling, fudge — O dear, dear, dear! (Goes R. 
entrance again and calls.) Suke! Suke ! Suke, I say! 

SuKE (off R. as before). Yaas, Missus! In a minute, 
Missus ! 

Mrs. W. Her minutes must be colored minutes — longer 
than white ones. (Turns back to work.) Suke's a good 
girl, and I've always thought there was no one in the world 
like a colored maid — they're such exceptionally fine cooks 
and nurses, but — (sighs) — if she only wouldn't — wouldn't 
— I don't like to say "lie" or ''steal," even to myself, but 
that's what it amounts to. (Has everything loaded on the 
lounge and chairs now and begins to sweep, dust rising 
furiously.) Anyway, no one can deny that she does stretch 
the truth terribly every time she tries to handle it, and that 
she has a regular mania for borrowing everything that 
attracts her eye, without remembering to ask the owner's 
permission, and then, of course, as completely forgetting 
to return it. (Looks up at ceiling.) O what a cobweb! 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 9 

{Sweeps dozvn.) And how crooked that picture hangs! 
And what a load of dust on it ! I don't wonder that motto 
gets terribly out of shape in this household. (Stands chair 
and attempts to reach, but cannot.) I must have a step- 
ladder. (Goes L. and calls.) Jotham! Jotham! Jotham! 
I might as well call the hitching-post, I suppose. Jotham, I 
say ! O dear, dear, dear ! Where is the stupid fellow now, I 
wonder? He's never around if there's any danger of his be- 
ing wanted. All the sense he has seems to be consumed in 
hiding away from work. (Turns back to sweeping.) Well, 
I can't waste time and breath yelling" at him. I suppose I'll 
have to let it go. It matches well with the rest of the 
house, anyway. (Szveeps violently a moment.) I wonder 
where Beth is ? She should have been home a full hour ago. 
She seems to take an unearthly long time to go to the post- 
office nowadays. 

Jotham enters L, stands twirling a stick in his hand 
and watching her foolishly. 

Mrs. W. I need her help so much. But I never seem to 
get any further than the needing of it. 

Jotham (clearing throat to attract her attention.) Ahem! 
(She does not hear.) 

Mrs. W. I do hope she is not forming any undesirable 
associations. 

Jotham (a little more loudly). Ahem! 

Mrs. W. (still szveeping vigorously) . Dear me! It's such 
a task to bring up a girl in the right way ! 

Jotham (still more loudly) . Ahem! 

Mrs. W. (continuing her sweeping). I never seem to get 
a bit of a chance, either, to talk to her, or look into her 
affairs as I know I should. 

Jotham (very loudly). Ahem! 

Mrs. W. (drops broom and screams). O-o-o-o-h ! (Sees 
Jotham and after panting a little picks up broom.) Love 
save my soul ! How you startled me, Jotham ! 

Jotham (meekly). Yes, mum. 

Mrs. W. (sternly). Jotham. where's your hat? 



10 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

JoTHAM (in confusion) . Why — why — I don't know. (She 
stares at him and he feels head in frightened zvay.) Ain't 
it — on my head, Mum? 

Mrs. W. It certainly is. Is that the place for it, 
J otham ? 

JoTHAM. Why — why — I — don't know, Mum. 

Mrs. W. Take it oft" this instant, young- man ! 

JoTHAM (meekly). Yes, Mum! (He snatches hat off 
and holds azvkzvardly betzveen both hands during remain- 
der of scene, tzvisting it around and looking very foolish.) 

Mrs. W. Dear me! (Fans herself zvith apron.) I haven't 
got over that scare yet. Where did you come from? 

JoTHAM (giggles). Te-hee ! Didn't you caU me. Mum? 

Mrs. W. To be sure I did ! 

JoTHAM. Wall, Mum — (giggles) — te-hee! Didn't I come? 

Mrs. W. Well, now that you've come, bring me the step- 
ladder right away. (Resumes zvork.) 

JoTiiAM (stands tzvisting hat, eyeing her uncertainly for 
a minute, then clears throat and speaks). The — the — the 
what. Mum? 

Mrs. W. (turning quickly). Mercy on me, Jotham! Are 
you there yet? 

Jotham. Yes, Mum, I — I — I — think so. 

Mrs. W. Well, why aren't you gone? 

Jotham. Why — why — I don't know. Mum. 

Mrs. W. Well, hustle now. I've no time to waste. (Re- 
sumes zvork.) 

Jotham. But, Mum — 

Mrs. W. (turns to him angrily). Jotham! 

JoTH'AM (trembles zvith fear). Y-y-y-y-es, M-m-m-mum. 

Mrs. W. Well? 

Jotham. What was it, Mum, you said you wanted? 

Mrs. W. (exasperated). The step-ladder! 

Jotham (mystified). Step — ladder? 

Mrs. W. (z'ery emphatically). Yes, step-ladder \ Don't 
you know what a step-ladder is? 

Jotham. I — I — don't know, Mum. (Shakes head in 
puzzled zvay.) 

Mrs. W. O dear me! Was there ever such a blockhead? 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 11 

I want it to step on — see? (Pantomimes.) To walk up — 
stand on top — straighten picture up there — see? 

JoTHAM (grasps her vieaning and speaks eagerly). O 
yes, Mum — y^s, j\Ium — you want to cHmb up, up, up — 
stand — fix picture. (Pantomimes.) 

Mrs. W. (grimly). Exactly! 

JOTHAM (delightedly). I know! I know! 

Mrs. W. (sarcastically). Bright boy! 

JoTHAM (claps hat on head, grins enthusiastically and 
runs out L.). I get him ! Yes, I get him ! (Exits.) 

Mrs. W. (zmtching him). That boy is certainly the 
dumbest boy that ever tried to hold down a job. I do wish 
I could ever manage to drive one grain of sense into his 
thick head! (Sweeps.) 

Mr. Weeden enters C. 

Mr. Weeden. Why, Nettie Weeden, what in the world 
are you doing? 

]\Irs. W. (sarcastically, still szveeping). Playing the 
piano. 

Mr. W. (dodging the dust, goes L.). Humph! What in 
the world — 

Mrs. W. Better keep back out of the way, Charles Wil- 
liam. You may get a little bit dusty. 

Mr. W. Humph! Should say so. (Attemps to cross to 
R., hut is stopped by cloud of dust.) Whew! (She turns 
to sweep in his direction and he crosses to R., goes up:) 
Jehosaphat! (His temper rises and the commotion seems 
to increase.) Great Caesar! And all the dead Romans! 
(Mrs. W. goes to chair, picks up cushions and pounds them 
fiercely. He dodges.) I'll be — 

Mrs. W. Careful what you say, Charles William! 

Mr. W. (still dodging). Careful! Good Lord! There 
aren't English words enough in all the dictionaries that 
have ever been printed to express what I'd like to say! 
Careful ! Good Lord ! And with an earthquake like this in 
a man's own parlor! Great C?esar! I don't blame these 
fellows who can afford a club for staying — 

Mrs. W. Charles AMlliam. 



12 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mr. W. (unheeding her interruption) — away from their 
loving families until their homes are at least undisturbed, 
and torn to pieces by such a confounded, infer — 

Mrs. W. Charles William! 

Mr. W. — infernal, dodgasted — [noise of bumping and 
dragging some heavy object out L.) Now, what in the 
name of all the holy saints and martyrs — 

Mrs. W. Sh ! (Noise outside increases.^ 

Mr. W. But I can't understand, Ida Jeanette Weeden, 

why — -r 

JoTHAM enters L. 

JOTHAM (trundling eniptv barrel). It's awful heavy, 
Mum ! 

Mr. W. a barrel ? 

JoTHAM. Terrible heavy! (Stands it up on end, bottom 
up, and pauses to wipe face.) But I got him! There was a 
lot of stuff in it — full up, Mum. But I emptied it out on 
the shed floor. (Grins.) I got him! You bet! Now where 
did you want it. Mum? 

Mrs. W. Why, Jotham, I didn't— 

Mr. W. What in all Christendom did you bring that 
confounded barrel in here for? (Looks around room scorn- 
fidly.) To store things in? Or are we going to move? It 
certainly does look to me that there's already enough junk 
here without — (his voice rises angrily on every zvord.) 

Mrs. W. (trying to pacify him). It's all right, Charles 
William, I — 

Mr. W. All right? Humph! WHiat's it for? 

Jotham (in some excitement). Why — why — to climb up 
— up — up — stand top— rfix picture! (Gestures frantically in 
his excited explanation.) 

Mr. W. Oh! I see! But why a barrel? W'as the step- 
ladder in use? 

Jotham (sJiakes Jiead as if mystified). Step-ladder? 

Mr. W. The idea of lugging in a great barrel like that 
to stand on, when — O, the idiotic, brainless, pig-headed — 

Mrs. \V. (uneasy and alarmed). Charles William! 

Mr. W. — empty skulled fool ! There, now ! (zvith an air 
of triumph at having spoken his mind.) Just come with me. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 13 

now, you — you — you chump! (Takes Jotham by the arm 
to lead him out L.) And V\\ show you what a step-ladder 
is, and how to carry — 

Mrs. W. No, no, Charles William. Really this will have 
to do. I can stand on it. I must stand on it. I just must 
get through with this ! I haven't time to wait for — 

Mr. W. But I tell you, Ida Jeanette Weeden, that I want 
to teach this — 

Mrs. W. No, no ! I must use the barrel. Put it right 
here, Jotham. (Goes to position in front of curtains at back 
and motions imperatively.) 

Mr. W. (zvith great authority). Take it out to the barn 
at once, Jotham. 

Mrs. W. (firnily). Put it here, I said, Jotham! (He 
starts.) 

Mr. W. Jotham! I said take it out! Did you hear? Take 
it out — out — out ! 

Jotham (zvho has been moving uncertainly in obedience 
to each command, nozv stops and scratches his head). 
Gee whiz! (Mr. W. stumbles backz^'ard over chair.) 

Mrs. W. (seizes opportunity and motions to Jotham). 
Here! (He hurries it into position. She stands on chair 
and climbs on barrel.) Now you run on out to your work, 
ril call you when I'm ready to have you take it out. 
(Jotham grins and hurries L., looking oz'er shoulder at 
Mr. W ) 

^Ir. W. (suddenly sees him as he is leaving, speaks an- 
grily). Jotham! 

Jotham (turns back zvith fear). Yes, sir. 

Mr. W. (starts, tumbles over broom). O, deuce take 
this everlasting — 

Mrs. W. Charles William ! (Motions to Jotham, zvho 
runs out L.,' frightened.) 

Mr. W. Yes, "Charles William! Charles William!"... 
That's me, all right ; but what in the dev — 

Mrs. W. (looking back over shoulder from barrel). 
Charles William! (He turns azvay in disgust.) O, by the 
way, dear, won't you hand me the dust-cloth, so I won't 
have to climb down? 



14 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mr. W. (turning back). Where? (Hunts floor, picks up 
handkerchief.) This? 

Mrs. W. No, that's' Will's handkerchief. 

Mr. W. (holds up gingham apron). This? 

Mrs. W. No, that's Beth's apron. 

Mr. W. (after looking around helplessly and pulling 
things from sofa to floor in exasperation). I can't find it! 
What sort of a thing is it? Everything here looks like a 
dust-cloth to me. 

Mrs. W. Never mind, I'll get it. (Descends from bar- 
rel) 

Mr, W. Well, Ida Jeanette, I may be home to lunch — 
and I may not. I'll call up, and if the atmosphere here is 
any clearer, I'll — I'll — (looks around room in disgust.) 
O gol darn it all, Fll— 

Mrs. W. Charles William, are you aware that you are 
speaking to your wife? 

Mr. W. No other woman would drive me to such an 
infer — (attempting to back out, stumbles over a footstool) 
— thunder and lightning ! Moses and Aaron and all the 
prophets of Israel!' (Nurses foot.) 

Mrs. W. Well, why didn't you look where you were 
going? 

Mr. W. Look ? Heavenly hosts ! Have I got eyes in all 
sides of my head? The devilish — 

Mrs. W. (in exasperation). Charles William, did you 
know — had you noticed that your wife is in the room? 

Mr. W. If she isn't, she's the only object, living or 
dead, in this d-d-d — 

Mrs. W. {horrified). Charles William! 

Mr. W. — darned old house that isn't in the room, and 
I'll be teetotally blown to thunder if I'll be imposed on — 
(exits R., muttering) . 

Mrs. W. (still searching for duster). O dear, dear, 
dear ! Charles William is such a good man, the very -best 
man in the world, I'm sure, if he only would try to control 
his temper and leave out all those terrible swears, and — 
and — (picks up necktie and pair of suspenders, a vest and 
a pipe while talking) — and take a little better care of his 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 15 

belongings. It seems as though I've been picking up after 
that blessed man all my life. And dear me, how angry he 
is ! He never calls me "Ida Jeanette" in that provoking, 
exasperating way, unless he's in one of his worst tantrums. 
It's always "Nettie" when he's even half way good-natured. 
{Looks up at picture.) Not cleaned yet! And no dusting- 
cloth to be found in all this pile of things and nothings ! 
I'll just use a corner of my apron, {Mounts barrel again 
and rubs z'igoronsly at motto.) Love save my soul! It must 
be two inches thick with pure unadulterated dust! 

Enter Rev. and Mrs. Dunning, R. They survey Mrs. 
W. in dismay, holding up hands in horror. ' 

Rev. Dunning. Why, Sister Weeden! 

Mrs. Dunning. Yes, inde'ed, Sister Weeden! 

Mrs. W. {turning around witJi a scream). Why, Mr. 
Dunning — I mean, of course, Brother Dunning! {Tries to 
get down hurriedly.) 

Rev. D. Let me help you. Be careful. 

Mrs. D. {anxiously). Very careful! (Rev. D. holds 
barrel steady while Mrs. W. descends. Then, wiping hand 
on apron, she offers it to Rev. D.) 

Mrs. W. Good morning, Brother Dunning. {Turns to 
Mrs. D., holding out hand.) And Sister Dunning, too. 
It was so — so — so — good of you to look in on me this 
morning. It really was. But — but — {looks around room) 
such a place as this to come in ! {Unloads a couple of chairs 
as hastily as possible, her guests watching' her during fol- 
lowing speeches.) 

Rev. D. Yes, Sister Weeden — your house — what are you 
doing? 

Mrs. D. What are you doing? 

Rev. D. Cleaning house ? 

Mrs. D. Cleaning house so early? 

Mrs. W. O dear, dear, dear, dear! It is clean house 
every day and all day, late and early, in this house. Every- 
thing is always out of place. And heaven knows I try hard 
enough, to live up to my early training. {Sighs.) 



16 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Rev. D. Early training? (Looking significantly at Mrs. 
D.) 

Mrs. D. Training? (Nodding to Rev. D.) 

Rev. D. So much depends on early training. 

Mrs. D. Everything, you might say, depends on training. 

Mrs. W. Here are some empty chairs at last. Do sit 
down, please. 

Rev. D. O but we can't stay a minute, Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. Not a minute. 

Mrs. W. O, you must — a minute, surely. It was so good 
of you to call. But as I was saying, mother was such a 
perfect housekeeper — everything spotless and ship-shape. 
I never saw a thing out of order in her house after nine 
o'clock in the morning, not a speck of dirt from garret to 
cellar. Blessings on her New England soul ! And I loved 
it — I adored it — I'm just simply crazy about a clean house, 
and well-behaved, good-mannered children. It's born in 
me. And nov/, look at this. {With impressive gesture.) 
Is there one thing where it ought to be? It's enough to 
make, poor mother turn over in her grave with, horror, if 
she could see what I've come to, after the way she brought 
me up. (Sighs.) It seems to me, as Mr. Weeden some- 
times says : 

''Train up a child in the way he should go. 
And when he gets old, why away he'll go !" 

Rev. D. (shocked). O Sister Weeden! How terrible! 

Mrs. D. (imitating him). How wicked! 

Mrs. W. But you never had children. Brother Weeden. 

Rev. D. No. 

Mrs. D. Never. 

Mrs, W. Then you can't really know how hard they are 
to manage and keep straight. It's a constant care and 
worry. 

Rev. D. But you are responsible for them, Sister Wee- 
den. 

Mrs. D. Responsible for every one of them. 

Rev. D. Everybody blames you, you know, for — for — 
everything. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETil. 17 

Mrs. D. Whatever they say and do. 

Mrs. W. {helplessly). O dear, dear, dear, dear! 

Rev. D. And that reminds me, Sister Weeden, we called 
to see Beth. 

Mrs. D. Yes, just to see Beth. 

Mrs. W. (surprised). Beth? 

Rev. D. Yes. 

Mrs. D. Of course. 

Rev. D. We want her in the choir. 

Mrs. W. In the choir? 

Mrs. D. Yes, in the choir. 

Mrs. W. (flattered by the offer but evidently worried). 
Well, it is very kind of you to think of her, I'm sure, and 
Beth can sing, too, very sw^eetly, when she takes a notion. 
But, you see — er — she doesn't — well, she doesn't like to go 
to practice so often as she'd have to, with the choir, and — 
and — she likes her amusements, and — and — (Rev. D. and 
Mrs. D. exchange glances.) 

Rev. D. And that is the very reason why we thought 
best — 

Mrs. D. To gjt her to join the choir. 

Rev. D. We thought we had better tell you — 

Mrs. D. Yes. we really thought we had better — 

Mrs. W. (/// alarm, sinking on lounge zvith all its pile of 
things). What? 

Rev. D. Well, it isn't a pleasant duty — 

Mrs. D. Not a very pleasant duty — 

Rev. D. But we thought you ought to know — 

Mrs. D. Yes. you surely ought to know — 

Mrs. W. O, what is it^ Tell me! Quick, quick, quick! 

Rev. D. Be patient, Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. Yes, you must be patient, sister. (Mrs. W. 
bozus head in hands zvith gesture of despair.) 

Rev. D. Do you know that new young man from Co- 
rn una ? 

Mrs. D. That wild young man from Corunna. 

Mrs. W. From Corunna? (They nod.) Why, no! 

Rev. D. We felt that you didn't. 

Mrs. D. We were quite sure that you didn't. 



18 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Rev. D. His name is Chip Whitney. 

Mrs. W. Chip Whitney? 

Mrs. D. {emphatically). Chip Whitney! 

Mrs. W. {puts hand to forehead, trying to remember). 
I beUeve I have some time or other heard the name men- 
tioned in the house. It struck me as being such a — a — 
pecuHar name. He's the new — er — er — let me see — what 
does he do? 

Rev. D. {severely). He tends bar. 

Mrs. W. {shocked). Tends bar? 

Mrs. D. {nodding, zmth lips compressed in disapproval). 
In Gute's saloon ! 

Mrs. W. {bezvildered). But why should I — 

Rev. D. He is very frequently seen promenading the 
streets with your Beth. 

Mrs. D. Every day he's walking the streets with Beth. 

Mrs. W. Beth? {They nod.) My Beth? {They nod.) 

I just can't believe it! There must be some mistake, 
surely. It can't be with my Beth. 

Rev. D. O there's no mistake, Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. No mistake at all about it. 

Mrs. W. My Beth ! O dear, dear, dear, dear ! Why Beth 
never seemed to take any notice of any boy anywhere but 
Jack Philley. She and Jack have run around together ever 
since they were small children. {Dazed.) I — can't — seem to 
understand it at all. It was — always — Jack. 

Rev. D. Yes, I know — until Chip came. 

Mrs. D. Till Chip came to town. 

Rev. D. It is a grievous affliction, Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. a very grievous affliction. 

Mrs. W. {zvringing hand). O what can I do? What can 

1 do? 

Rev. D. Do? You must stop it. {Rises zvhile speaking.) 
Mrs. D. Stop it at once. {Also rising.) 
Rev. D. Remember, you alone are responsible for your 
family. 

Mrs. D. You are altogether responsible. 

Mrs. W. {rising and standing before them zvith hands 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 19 

clasped). O are you sure there is no mistake? Is it really 
my Beth.? 

Rev. D. Yes, we are quite sure. Everybody's talking 
about it. 

Mrs. D. (nodding) . Everybody in town. 

Mrs. W. (ivringing hands). O dear, dear, dear, dear! 

Enter Beth, R. 

Beth. O Mamma, I — Why, Rev. and Mrs. Dunning, 
how do you do? (Shakes hands zvith them. They seem tri- 
umphant. She looks over shoulder while shaking hands, 
calling.) Come in. Chip. 

Rev. D. (turns to Mrs. W., aside). What did we tell you? 

Mrs. D. (same business). What have we been saying? 
(Mrs. W. drops head.) 

Enter Chip, R., zmth tough szvagger, the carriage of a 
bully. 

Chip. Aw, I'm in a deuce of a sweat ! No time to chin. 
Got a 'pointment down to Gute's to help some chumps kill 
a Chinaman. -They'll be disappointed if I don't come. 
(Looks at Mrs. W. and grins familiarly.) Just brought 
Beth home. 'Fraid some one 'ud steal her. 

Rev. D. (emphasising the surname significantly). Miss 
Weeden must have been very grateful. 

Mrs. D. Yes, Miss Weeden must certainly appreciate 
your attention. 

Chip (advancing). By hookey, now if here ain't the 
parson. 'Tain't often I gits myself introduced into such 
swell society. Shake, old fellow! (Rev. D. puts hand be- 
hind back and steps back.) No? Well, no harm done. 
The Lord'll give me credit for trying to join hands with 
the church. (Laughs.) That's a good one, ain't it? 
(Turns to Mrs. D.) And is this your side partner, pal? 
Gee ! She ain't so much on gait, is it, but I bet she's the 
best horse of the two. Shake, lady. 

Mrs. D. (putting her hand behind her). Pardon me, 
young man, but — 

Chip. O all right. Just as you say. I just wanted to be 
sociable. (Turns to Rev. D.) Got her well broke in, ain't 



20 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

you, pardner? A fellow couldn't make a mash on her if 
he had the nerve to try. 

Rev. D. Did you ever see such deplorable depravity 
before? 

Mrs. D. Ever in all your life? 

Chip. O, I'm a black sheep, I am, all right. (Laughs.) 
Can't help it, though. You fellows have to have us sinners 
or you couldn't run your sin mills, you know! (Turns to 
Mrs. W.) Now, Mrs. Weeden, now that Beth's all to the 
good in the bosom of her home — and the church — (laughs 
and bows to Rev. D. and Mrs. D. mockingly), I'll have to 
beat it for town. So long, Beth. See you tonight. 

Beth. Sure. Good-bye. (C?np e.i'its R. zvith szvagger. 
They hear the door sla]!i outside in hall and hear hint out- 
side, ivhistling some popidar air. They listen in strained 
silence till the ivhistle dies away.) 

Rev. D. We must go now, too, Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. We really must go. (Beth takes off hat and 
tosses it on table. Fires gloves after it. One falls on floor.) 

Mrs. W. Well, I can only say, thank you for coming. 

Rev. D. We will come again. 

Mrs. D. Come again soon. 

Rev. D. Remember you alone are responsible — 

Mrs. D. For your family. 

Rev. D. Good morning, Sister Weeden. (Bowing lozv 
to her.) And Miss Beth. (Turns and bozvs to Beth, zvho 
nods coldly.) 

Mrs. D. Good morning, both of you. (Bozvs to each 
and they respond. Takes Rev. Dunning's arm and they 
e.vit R., Mrs. W . follozving them out, politely.) 

Beth, Wonder what's up. Mamma looks as though she 
had been sick a year, and Rev. and Mrs. Dunning looked as 
if they had something up their sleeves. Somebody's in for 
it, all right, all right. Wonder if it's poor little me. I do 
wish Chip hadn't been drinking. He don't cut much of a 
figure in refinement after he's a glass too much. 

Mrs. W., re-entering. 

Mrs. W. Well, my daughter — 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 21 

Beth. What in all Christendom, Mamma, ails our good 
preacher and his obedient echo? Isn't she a prime copy? 
Just the perfect pattern of a model wife that never thinks 
any but her lord and master's thoughts ? I can hardly keep 
from laughing right in her face sometimes. The boys call 
her his italics— and doesn't she put the emphasis nicely on 
all he says? 

Mrs. W. (trying listlessly to pick up things from the 
floor). Beth, Beth! You musn't be so rude as to criticize 
our guests. 

Beth. Guests? Humph ! What did they want? Some but- 
ting-in, I know. 

Mrs. W. (turns to Beth reprovingly). You are unjust, 
Beth. They wanted you to sing in thechoir. 

Beth. Choir? (Mrs. W. nods.) Well, that's rich. 
(Sings.) 

'Trom Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
They call us to deliver — " 
Humph ! Was that really what they came for, Mamma ? 
Mrs. W. Beth, am I in the habit of telling you untruths? 
Beth. No, Mamma. Forgive me. But why didn't they 
say so to me? 

Mrs. W. Well, Beth, when you came in as you did with 
that — that — that — 
Beth. Chip? 

Mrs. W. That fellow, whoever he is — 
Beth (with dignity). Mr. Charles Whitney, Mamma— 
that's who he is. But everybody who knows him calls him 
"Chip." 

Mrs. W. (after a pause, wondering zvhat to say). Where 
was Jack? 

Beth. Bother Jack! (Fumbles confusedly with things 
on table.) 

Mrs. W. But I thought that you and Jack— 

Beth (sulkily). Jack's a stick! 

Mrs. W. (firmly). Jack's a gentleman. 

Beth. Well, then, all I can say is that gentlemen are 



22 AS A WOMAN THINK£TH. ^ 

poky and stiff, and conceited and bossy, and — and — behind 
the times. Chip's full of fun — ^ot some life — some sparkle 
to him — and more inclined to give a girl a good time in one 
hour that Jack Philley would in ten years. He may not 
have Jack's polish — 

Mrs. W. (significantly). I should say not! 

Beth {defiantly) . But he's a — a — a real diamond in the 
rough, and — and — I don't think Jack's got a single thing 
to say about it. 

Mrs. W. Well, Beth, your father and I certainly have 
something to say about it. 

Beth. Humph ! 

Mrs. W. We — we — we are responsible for our family. 
. Beth. Humph ! 

Mrs. W. And it is our duty to know where you are 
and what sort of company you are keeping. 

Beth. O Mamma, I^ — 

Mrs. W. {unheeding). So, until we know more about 
this young man, and the life he leads in town, and the repu- 
tation he bears, and all that, I forbid your being seen with 
him again — 

Beth {steps forward in protest). Mamma! 

Mrs. W. And refuse to allow you to receive him in our 
home. Do you understand? 

Beth {turns azvay from Mrs. W. and zvalks to L. 
entrance). Yes, I understand. {Pauses, looking out L. 
sadly. Then wheels and -walks hack tozvard Mrs. W. at 
R, talking rapidly and vehemently.) And I understand, 
too, that there's nothing right, nor fair, nor — nor — good 
about it, and that it's all the work of that meddling old 
preacher — ■ 

Mrs. W. Beth! Beth! 

Beth. Will's a boy, if he is only a kid, so he can bum 
around with all the little toughs in town, and smoke cigar- 
ettes, and — 

Mrs. W. {shocked). Cigarettes! 

Beth {emphatically). Yes, cigarettes — the real thing, 
too! Dolly don't happen to be so lucky as to be a boy, but 
she can chew gum and use slang, and be as vulgar as she 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 23 

pleases. But I — I — I am almost seventeen, and I can't even 
choose my own friends. There just ain't anything fair 
about it — so there! (IValks C. entrance, half crying. At 
entrance turns hack again.) As for Jack Philley, I — I — 
fairly hate the sight of him, and I hope I'll never, never, 
never have to speak to him again! (Exits.) 

Mrs. W. {watches entrance a moment as if fascinated, 
stunned by the hlozv she has just received). Cigarettes! 
My Will!' My Willie boy! What shall I do? (Sits on 
lounge in sad reflection. After pause.) 

Enter Suke, C. 

SuKE. Shall we-uns do be cleaning up now, Mum? 

Mrs. W. (rousing with effort). Yes, Suke. Yes; we 
must. 

Suke (beginning to pick up things). Dis heah room 
suah do seem like a cyclone done struck it. (Picks up hand- 
kerchief, eyes Mrs. W. cautiously and sticks it in front of 
zvaist. Mrs. W. turns around just in time to see her.) 

Mrs. W. Suke ! 

Suke (innocently). Yes'm. 

Mrs. W. That handkerchief. 

Suke (greatly surprised). What han'cher, mum? 

Mrs. W. (sternly). The one you just put in your waist, 
Suke. 

Suke (pulling it out zvith air of unconcern). Lawsy, 
Mum, I jus' done put dat in dar, kase I done gwine take it 
to de wash, Mum. Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. (amazed at such an excuse). The wash? 

Suke. .Yas'm. (Holds it up and looks at it.) It am pow- 
erful dirty, Mum. 

Mrs. W. (sarcastically) . And do you usually carry the 
soiled laundry around in your waist? 

Suke. Why, no, Mum — not generally speaking, Mum, I 
doesn't do dat ; but yo' sees it do seem pow'ful handy in all 
dis heah both'ration. Mum. 

Mrs. W. Well, I think you had better let me see to the 
laundry, Suke. 



24 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

SuKE (meekly). Yes'm. (Hands handkerchief to her 
reluctantly.) 

Olive at L., looking in, then entering. 

Olive. Mother! O you're in here, are you? Mercy 
on me! What a litter! Where's my purse? I left it — 
dear me! What a mess this room does get in! (Suke 
stuffs^ veil into neck of dress, one little end showing at 
neck.) 

Mrs. W. Your purse is right here, Olive, hanging on 
the back of the chair. Isn't that just where you left it? 

Olive. O I suppose so. (Indifferently. Takes it, opens, 
etc.) Thank you. 

, Mrs. W. Your veil is here, too — right — why, where has 
that veil disappeared to all of a sudden? (Looks at Suke 
suspiciously, zvho is on her knees, picking up scraps of 
paper and does not seem to hear anything.) Suke! 

Suke (jumps as if startled, looks back over shoulder). 
Yes'm. 

Mrs. W. What did you do with the veil that hung on 
this chair with rny daughter's purse? 

Suke. Sakes alive, honey, dis heah chile ain't seed nuffin' 
o' no veil. 

Mrs. W. Suke! 

Suke (rises). Fo' de Lawd, Mum, I done hain't seed a 
thing — 

Mrs. W. (pulls veil from her neck). What is this? Olive, 
isn't this your veil? 

Olive (taking it). Why, of course. 

Suke. What? Dat ar scahf — a veil? Why, I done t'ought 
it war, Miss Beff's fum-a-diddle thing what she weahs 
awound her neck, and ovah, her head, an' I was done g'wine 
take it to her foah it done got losted. 

Mrs. W. Very kind of you, Suke, I'm sure ; but we will 
let the ladies look after their own property after this. Do 
you understand? Either you stop touching things that don't 
belong to you, in this way, or I shall have, to let you go. 

Suke. Yo' doan mean discharge me, Mum? Suah, now, 
you cawn't be meanin' dat to dis poah chile! I des wants 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 25 

to help de young ladies keep twack ob dere t'ings, dat's all. 
{Gets back on knees at ivork.) 

Mrs. \N . Well, it must not happen any more — any more. 
Do you understand ? 

Olive. Oh, there's my comb, too — and my belt. {Takes 
them from piano and puts in purse.) 

Mrs. W. I do wish, Olive, that you wouldn't leave your 
things over here. Why do you do it? 

Olive {carelessly). Just forget them, Mother. Don't 
mean to. Wouldn't' have thought of them again in a week, 
most likely. But I need my purse. There's a big sale on at 
Marston's. Those dollar silks are going for ninety-eight- 
and-a-half cents this w^eek, and I simply must have a new 
gown. Caleb is just as mean as he can be about it. He 
won't do a thing to help me. He's just too shiftless and 
good-for-nothing to breathe when he's not actually com- 
pelled to. But I'll have this dress if I — ■ 

Mrs. W. Olive, it does seem to me that you are very 
extravagant, and^and — just a little careless with your nice 
things. You certainly are not very saving of the money 
Caleb does earn. Now, if you— 

Olive. Now, don't you go preaching. Mother. I like nice 
things, and I am bound to have just all of them that I can 
get. A woman is certainly entitled to some compensation 
for the sort of a life a worthless man makes her, and — 
(Suke rises zvliile Olive talks and stares at her grinning.) 

Mrs. W. (seeing Suke). Hush, Olive! Remember we are 
not alone. 

Olive. O Suke knows what a miserable life I lead, and 
— what a mistake — 

Mrs. W. Olive! Don't! 

Olive. Poor old Mother! She Zi'ill be behind the times. 
{Embraces her and goes R.) Good-bye. When I come 
home I'll have a brand new silk gown as fine as anybody. 
And I'll come over to get you to help me make it. It's so 
nice that you have Suke to do the work, so you won't have 
anything to do yourself. {Exits R. After a pause sticks her 
head in again.) Now, don't you dare scold about my finery, 
Mother. When a wife has a rag doll to live with, it's her 



26 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

boiinden duty to dress her own self in silks, to keep people 
from learning the truth about the sawdust stuffing. (Laughs 
rathe?' cynically.) Good-bye, for sure this time. (Exits.) 

Mrs. W. Dear me ! What Olive and Caleb are ever com- 
ing to, I'm sure I don't know! She is as much of a care to 
me as she was before they were married ! Just ! 

SuKE. Shall I done carry some of dese heah things out 
now? (Mrs. W. is thinking, with her head turned, and 
SuKE snatches Doll\^s hair ribbon and sticks it in her 
sleeve.) 

Mrs. W. (turning suddenly). Why, I don't know. (Sees 
ribbon.) I will take care of Miss Dolly's ribbon, Suke. 

SuKE. Yes'm. I was jes' gwine take it up to her room 
fo' her. Mum. 

Mrs-. W. Of course. Such a handy way of carrying it. 
(Sarcastically.) 

Suke. Suah., now, Mum, yo' doan done t'ink — 

Enter Jack_, R., suddenly. 

SuKE. O golly gwacious! (Sinks to knees again, behind 
table, and straightens rug.) 

Mrs. W. (turns suddenly and is startled). O-o-o-o-h ! — 
Why— Jack Philley! 

Jack. Pardon me, Mrs. Weeden, I didn't mean to startle 
you. The door was open and I invited myself to walk right 
in. (Pauses, twisting cap in embarrassment.) Is — is — is 
Beth in? 

Mrs. W. (with some confusion) . I am not sure, Jack. 
She came in awhile ago with — with. — 

Jack (bitterly). With that Chip Whitney! 

Mrs. W. (hurriedly). And she left her hat here, I see, 
and her gloves. So she is probably — 

Jack (breaking in hastily and walking R.). Never mind, 
Mrs. Weeden. I am sorry I bothered you. I can't wait to 
see Beth. I — I don't think I want to see her. If she came 
with — 

Mrs. W. (walking tozvard him). O Jack, don't — 

Jack (turning and facing her impetuously). Why do 
you let her — 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 27 

M'RS. W. I didn't know, Jack, until just — 

Jack. Didn't know ? Why, it's been going on for weeks 
and weeks! 

Mrs. W. Weeks and weeks?. 

Jack. And I — I — (zmlks tozvard table with head bowed, 
stands silently a moment, looking down.) Well, you see, I'm 
thrown away, just like this worn-out glove. (Picks up' 
Beth's glove from floor,) Yes, just like this poor old 
glove ! 

Mrs. W. {folloivs him, lays hand on shoulder). I'm so 
sorry, my boy — I really am. I don't understand a thing 
about the affair yet, but — (sighs and walks to lounge, punch- 
ing tJie pillows and endeavoring to straighten a little.) 

Jack (following her). O it isn't your fault, Mrs. Weeden. 

Mrs. W. Yes — yes — I am responsible for my family. 
(Suke rises suddenly.) 

Jack. Nonsense. How could you — (suddenly sees 
Suke) — well, what's the use? Til — I'll — go now. (JValks 
R., thrusting glove slyly in pocket. At entrance turns.) 
I thought maybe I could — but no — I don't want to see 
her — ever, ever again! (Exits R.) 

Suke. Is yo' done gwine — 

Mrs. W. O don't bother me, Suke — don't ask me any- 
thing. I am just utterly discouraged — disheartened. (Sinks 
in lounge in despair.) 

Suke. O sho' now, honey, yo' done mustn't — 

Caleb (sticks head in at L.). Mother Weeden! 

Mrs. W. (jumping up in half alarm). Yes, Caleb. 

Enter Caleb, L. 

Caleb (advancing into room and looking around). Why 
— ain't Olive here? 

Mrs. W. No. 

Caleb. She ain't? (Speaks with slozv drawl.) 

Mrs. W. No. 

Caleb. Why, she said she was coming over here to spend 
the rest of the day. I laid down to take a nap — not having 
much of anything to do today, and not feeling like doing 
what little there was, and — 



28 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. Cale Mead, you're lazy! 

Caleb. Lazy? (Begins to whittle a stick, letting shav- 
ings fall on floor.) 

Mrs. W. Yes, lazy — 1-a-z-y ! As much as there is around 
your place that needs doing, for you to be lying around 
snoozing in the middle of the day — you, a big, able-bodied, 
healthy man — it puts me all out of patience with you. 
{Turns hack, stands with hands on hips, looking around.) 

Caleb {still whittling listlessly). Well, maybe I be — 
maybe I be. Don't you know, Mother Weeden, I shouldn't 
wonder a bit if I be. But when a fellow's wife puts every 
cent on her back, or into her mouth, that he can manage to 
scrape together, and even runs into debt — why, it ain't apt 
to make him so all-fired ambitious to scrape up any more, 
and — 

Mrs. W. (turning back to him). I know it, Cale — 
mercy on me ! Do stop whittling that wood all over my 
floor ! It's hard enough to get clean now without any more 
children's litter to clean up! (He puts knife in pocket, 
throzving stick on floor.) Olive is careless, I know — if she 
is my oldest daughter. 

Caleb. Well, whose fault is it? Who brung her up? 

Mrs. W. I know ! I know ! I am responsible for my fam- 
ily. But I don't see that families necessarily include sons- 
in-law, and beaux, and chums, and all the visitors that are 
likely to drop in. I can't be responsible for them all! And 
it seems to me — (doorbell rings). O dear, dear, dear, 
dear ! Who can that be ? Suke, the bell. 

SuKE. Yes'm. (Exits R.) 

Caleb. You don't seem specially rigged up for company. 
Mother Weeden. 

Mrs. W. I know. I know. (Excitedly tries to fix hair, 
pin collar, pick up things, etc.) 

Caleb (shambles slowly left). Well, I'm off. (At L. 
entrance turns back.) Sorry I'm so no 'count, Mother 
Weeden, but I guess I must have been cut from a spoiled 
pattern. (Exits L.) 

Enter Suke, R., followed by Mrs. Parker and Profes- 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 29 

SOR Baba Majarajah. Suke keeps looking at Professor 
Majarajah, looking frightened. 

Suke {just inside door). Mrs. Parker, Mum, and a— a 
—a— gentleman ! {Walks C. as if frightened, then turns 
back to look at him, and speaks aside.) Massv on us! I 
done wondah. what kind of a fweak he done am ! {E.vits 
C) 

Mrs. W. Pm glad you came in, Gertrude. But— but — 
but — {with uneasy glance at room.) 

Mrs. Parker. I knew you wouldn't be expecting any- 
one to drop in on you at this hour in the morning, Nettie, 
but I did so want you to meet the Professor — Professor 
Baba Majarajah— my very dear friend, Mrs. Weeden. 

Prof. B. M. {shaking hands). Very glad, indeed, I am to 
meet Madame. A^ery happy to look into her eyes, so blue 
like the far-away skies of India, and to press in mine so fair 
and soft her hand. 

Mrs. W. (/// at ease). You are very kind, I am sure, 
Professor — Professor — Professor — ' 

Mrs. p. Majarajah, Nettie. 

Mrs. W. {slowly and carefully). Ma-ja-ra-jah. 
^ Prof. B. M. Ah, so sweet it sounds — so soft — so mu- 
sical—coming from the lips of the Am^erican Madame, so 
red like the sweet rose. {Fingvrs red rose in his sash and 
bozi's low.) 

Mrs. W. {very much embarrassed, scurrying around to 
find seats). Do have some chairs, please-^sit here. Pro- 
fessor — here, Gertrude. I have been trying to get this room 
cleaned up, and straightened out, before time for luncheon, 
but— but— O dear, dear, dear, dear! {Looks helplessly 
around.) 

Prof. B. M. {seating himself). The American Madame 
IS— what shall I say ?— flustrated— is that the word? 

Mrs. p. Quite expressive, at least. Professor. Don't 
look so worried, Nettie. We won't stav but just a few min- 
utes, but the Professor came to call on me, and I just had 
to bring him right over to meet you. 

Mrs. W. {looking front one to the other, puc.cled). Y-e-s? 



30 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

(Sits and folds hands zmth air of resignation to zvhatever 
may he about to come next.) 

Mrs. p. You see, Nettie, dear, he is going to give a course 
of lectures — 

Mrs. W. {half incredulously looking at him). Lectures? 
{He bozvs lozv.) Wliere? 

Mrs. p. At the Auditorium. 

Mrs. W. When ? 

Mrs. p. Beginning tonight. For the Modern Science 
Club. I'm secretary. 

Mrs. W. About — ? {Looking from one to the other.) 

Mrs. p. {enthusiastically). O they are going to be just 
perfectly lovely, you know, Nettie — all about practical psy- 
chology. 

Mrs. W. {astounded). Psychology? 

Mrs. p. Yes, mental science, you know — New Thought 
— and — and — O he's so splendid when he talks about the 
subconscious mind, and all that. 

Mrs. W. {still mystified). The subconscious mind? Why, 
what — {looks at Prof. B. M. as at some unsohed problem.) 

Mrs. p. Yes, isn't it too delicious? You see, Nettie, it's 
like this. The subconscious mind is the part of the mind 
that you dream with — and you have no sort of control 
over it at all in ordinary ways. 

Mrs. W. Then what earthly good is it? 

Prof. B. M. {zvith elaborate, expansive gesture). Why, 
you just have to influence it, Madame — and then it will do 
whatever you command of it. 

Mrs. W. Influence? 

Prof. B. M. {same gesture). Exactly. 

Mrs. W. But how? ' 

Prof. B, M. Why, Madame, everything you do and say — 
every thought you may think, even to yourself, has its influ- 
ence upon this so wonderful part of your mind. Whatever 
you want to be, think you are — and you will soon become. 
Whatever you want to do, think you can and you zvill, and 
you cannot fail, however impossible it seems. Whatever 
you want to have, impress the subconscious mind with 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 31 

the thought that it is yours already, and make yourself be- 
Heve it, and you will surely draw it to you. O Madame, 
if you will only begin to instruct that little servant of yours 
properly, it will make your whole life different. 

Mrs. W. Make my whole life different? Love save my 
soul! If it only would! Heaven knows there's need enough 
of it ! I'd do anything — try everything, that I really thought 
would make my whole life different. But — (hesitates, puz- 
zled, turns to Mrs. P.) Gertrude, do you understand? 

Mrs. p. (a little dubiously). Why, I think so. It seems 
quite simple. 

Mrs. VV. Simple? 

Mrs. p. For instance, you think of the thing you want 
most of anything in all the world — to be, or do, or have, or 
happen, you know — and then you just keep wanting it as 
hard as you can, telling your subconscious mind all the 
time that it is yours, that it is true, and — and — well, it 
comes to pass sooner than you think, and you just can't 
help getting it all your way, for the subconscious mind has 
all the power over you, and your life and conditions, you 
see, and — and — am I telling it right, Professor? 

Prof. B. M. O so beautifully, Madame — so sweetly. I 
am quite — what you say? — entranced. 

Mrs. W. (clasping hands in ecstacy). O I wonder! I 
wonder ! 

Prof. B. M. . And what is it that the fair American Mad- 
ame wonders? 

Mrs. W. Are you sure everybody has got one? 

Prof. B. M. Why, that is, of course. It is the sole di- 
recting force of your whole life — outside and inside. 

Mrs. W^ (to Mrs. P.). Do you think there is really any- 
thing to it? 

Prof. B. M. (rising impetuously). Anything to it! AMiy, 
Madame, there is all things to it — everything! (Stands he- 
fore her, speaking emphatically zvith many gestures.) The 
great men of India have known it and practiced it for 
many centuries. The great men of England, and France, 
and Germany, and, yes, even your America, are now learn- 
ing what a sure and wonderful thing it is ! 



32 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. (rising and speaking zvith a note of apology in 
her voice). But sit down, Professor, and tell me — 

Prof. B. M. {still zvith slight haughtiness). It is to me 
sorry, Madame — very to be regrets — but — {turns to R. and 
motions to door). I must away! {Spreads hands in elab- 
orate gesture.) To see many, many peoples, to do many, 
many duties ! Ah, many, many ! 

Mrs. W. {to Mrs. P., who has not risen). You will stay, 
Gertrude ? 

Prof. B. M. You have, you think, no further duties in 
the town to go about, Madame, the secretary ? {To Mrs. 
P.) You with your friend will remain, and say to her the 
great truth ? I alone will go on my way my appointed task 
to perform. So? 

Mrs. p. {rising slowly). If you are willing. Professor. 

Prof. B. M. O very willing am I. Yes, Madame. Speak 
to me the — the — good-by — is that what you say ? And — I — 
I— 

Mrs. p. (extending hand to him). And you will come 
back to luncheon with me. Professor? 

Prof. B. M. (bowing lozv over her hand). I shall — O so 
much ! — be delight in it, Madame ! 

Mrs. W. And you will come to see me again. Profes- 
sor ; sometime when my house — my house — (looks around, 
shaking head). 

Prof. B. M. I shall also so very much, pleasure take, 
Madame of the blue, blue eyes. And you will to the lec- 
ture — 

Mrs. W. O yes, yes! If I can only get my work done. I 
always go to the Modern Science Club lectures. Don't I, 
Gertrude? When I can get my work done. 

Prof. B. M. Ah, Madame, you must instruct — you must 
educate — you must teach and train that subconscious mind. 
Then all things will be just so like you zvill them to be — 
as you see it in your imagination. Everything in your whole 
life, Madame, depends upon the mental attitude that you 
yourself create. Whatever you steadfastly desire and will 
to come to you, why it simply has to come ! It can't help 
coming ! That is the one great law of the one true phiios- 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 33 

ophy. Ah, yes, yes ! It is wonderful ! We can be what we 
will be! Do you not read your Bible, Madame? 

Mrs. W. Bible ? Why, certainly — certainly — when I have 
time. 

Prof. B. M. And does it not say, ''As a man thinketh in 
his heart, so is he?" 

Mrs. W. Why, yes, so it does ! so it does ! 

Prof. B. M. And now, ladies, I — I — to you must say 
the — the — the — morning is good. (Bozvs hhnself out R.) 

Mrs. W. and Mrs. P. (together). Good morning. (Bozv 
to him at the same time, then turning to face one another 
simultaneously, speak at once impulsively). Isn't it per- 
fectly wonderful ? 

Mrs. W. (dubiously). If it is only true! 

Mrs. p. Why, of course it is true ! The very idea ! 

I\Irs. W. But, Gertrude— 

]\Irs. p. Well? 

Mrs. W. How do you know? 

Mrs. p. Why, all the magazines and newspapers are 
taking it up, and there's no end of books written about it. 
I've read a whole lot on the subject lately, haven't you? 
(Looks around for books, moves chair to sit and cushion 
falls to floor.) 

Mrs. W. (picking it iip and ponnding it I'igorously). 
Love save my soul ! I don't get any time to read. It's just 
work, work, work — worry, worry, worry, from morning till 
night ! 

Mrs. p. Worry? O you mustn't worry. (Goes to sit in 
another chair, finds it piled full of rugs. Jumps up, looks 
at chair, frightened, then looks helplessly around for an- 
other, keeping up the conversation all the time.) That 
makes everything just that much worse — to, worry about it. 
Worry, the Professor says, is just Fear, and Fear is the 
very worst thing you can feed to your subconscious mind, 
for it calls down the very worst things on your head that 
you can possibly imagine. You see, Nettie, the law works 
both ways. Think good, you get good. Think bad, why, 
of course, you get bad. Don't you see? (Still looking 
around for chair, Mrs. W, keeping busily at work.) 



34 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. Sit here, Gertrude. {Dumping rugs on floor 
and dusting chair ivitJi apron.) You don't mind my keep- 
ing at work, do you? 

Mrs. p. (seating herself). O certainly not. Go right 
ahead, the same as if I wasn't here. 

Mrs. W. I just want to get things in some kind of or- 
der before the family gets home for luncheon. 

Mrs. p. As I was saying, you musn't worry. Just fix 
your mind steadfastly upon whatever you most desire, and 
then believe it is true with all your heart. 

Mrs. W. (stopping work and standing with hands on 
liips). But how in mercy's name can I make myself believe 
a thing is true, when the good Lord himself knows it ain't 
true ? 

Mrs. p. O it's just the old baby game of "Let's Pre- 
tend," only you just keep believing, and actually expecting 
it to come true all the time. 

Mrs. W. It's just like a fairy tale, isn't it? 

Mrs. p. Better. For it really does come true, you see. 

Mrs. W. Have you tried it? 

Mrs. p. Well^-er — yes — but onl}^ in one or two little 
things so far, but — 

Mrs. W. Did it work? 

Mrs. p. Splendidly! 

Mrs. W. (after a reflective pause). Pve just got a good 
notion — 

Mrs. p. (eagerly). Yes? 

Mrs. W. To try it on this family of mine. 

Mrs. p. (inqniringly). Yes? 

Mrs. W. If others can, I can. 

Mrs. p. (encouragingly). Yes! (With emphatic nod.) 

Mrs. W. I used to have a will of my own. 

Mrs. p. (reminiscently nodding). Yes! 

Mrs. W. Now everybody seems to own it but me. 

Mrs. p. (in sympathetic inquiry). Yes? 

Mrs. W. But if it is really true, that "As a man thinketh 
in his heart, so is he — " 

Mrs. p. (eagerly). Yes? 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 35 

Mrs. W. It must mean "As a zuoiiian thinketh," loo, 
and — 

Mrs. p. (more eagerly). Yes? 

Mrs. W. {emphatically, pounds table loudly). I'll do it! 

Mrs. p. (with open delight). Yes! 

Mrs. W. Love save my soul, Gertrude, can't you say 
anything- but ''Yes?" 

Mrs. p. (surprised). Yes! (Opens mouth to continue, 
]\Irs. W. interrupts, not gii'ing her a chance to say an- 
other zvord.) 

Mrs. W. (sits and meditates aloud). Now, let me see. 
What do I want most of all ? I know ! One of the things I 
have always most ardently, passionately desired, is a clean, 
orderly house and a well-behaved family. You know, Ger- 
trude, what a mess my house is always in. (Mrs. P. nods.) 
But I don't believe you or anybody else can know how very, 
very much I have wanted, and always tried my best to have 
it different. Gertrude, you never saw such a careless family 
as mine in all this world. Mr. Weeden is actually the 
most thoughtless man who was ever created. Why, I've 
seen him, time and again, take off his shoes here in the 
parlor, after walking through the sand and gravel all day, 
and actually empty them right out on the carpet ! He 
reads his newspaper and throws it down, piece by piece, 
as fast as he finishes a section. He takes off his duds and 
throws them down wherever he happens to be. And, mind 
you, every single one of the children is just exactly like 
him, and no amount of talking and scolding will do a mite 
of good ! Then — well, you've seen something of Charles 
William's temper, Gertrude — 

Mrs. p. (nodding). Should say so. 

Mrs. W. And what does that blessed man do, but fly 
into a rage every day of his life, because the house is out 
of order! 

Mrs. p. That's the man of it. 

Mrs. W. Anyway, it's the Charles \\^ilHam of it. 

Mrs. p. Can't you break him ? 

Mrs. W. Never could. He always growled that it was 



36 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

his own house, and he guessed he could do as he pleased 
in it. 

Mrs. p. Humph ! I'd fix him. 

Mrs. W. (significantly). I will! (After a pause, em- 
phatically.) I can and I will! (Sighs.) But that isn't all. 
Beth's shook Jack Philley and is cutting up with a tough 
down town. Will's smoking cigarettes, Dolly's using slang 
and chewing gum. Jotham, the man, is a dummy — a regu- 
lar simpleton, and Suke — well, I've told you before what 
a taste she has for annexing other people's property, and 
threats nor coaxing seem to have any effect at all on her 
unregenerate soul ! Now I'm going to work in earnest to 
practice on this whole bunch — excuse the slang, Gertrude — 
I'm catching it of Dolly, I'm afraid — and see what I can 
make of the family — by w^ay of the — what does he call it, 
the subconscious mind — is that right? 

Mrs. p. It seems rather — rather — an undertaking. 

Mrs. W. Of course it is. Just think how many subcon- 
scious minds I've got to influence ! But it's worth, trying, 
if it will make my life any different. 

Mrs. p. Of course it's worth trying, but — (shakes head 
dubiously) . 

Mrs. W. Besides, Gertrude, the preacher and his good 
wife told me only this morning that I was responsible for 
my family — for all that they did and said. Think of it! If 
I am responsible, isn't it my duty to exercise my influence? 

Mrs. p. Yes, it looks that way, but — (still very doubt- 
ful). 

Mrs. W. Of course I'm beginning all wrong to tell you 
this, Gertrude, I see that. wSo right here and now, I want 
to take back every single word of it, and I want you to 
forget that I ever said it. (Rises.) Mrs. Gertrude Par- 
ker, listen to me! (Grabs dustcloth or handkerchief or 
apron from floor and mounts barrel.) I want you to dis- 
tinctly understand from now on, henceforth and forever, 
that all I have been saying to you this morning has been 
but a dream — a fleeting vision — a nightmare. Bear it con- 
stantly in mind, Madam, that I have the cleanest, most 
orderly house in the whole county! Do not allow yourself 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. . zi 

to forget, either, that my family is the neatest, most par- 
ticular family in town. Understand? 

Mrs. p. {looks around room dubiously, nods uncertainly). 
I — guess — so. 

Mrs. W. Furthermore, Madam, you must thoroughly 
understand, once and for all, that my husband has the mos'^t 
angelic temper that was ever bestowed upon mortal man! 
That Beth, my ever wise and sensible daughter, would never 
dream of being even civil to any young man not of the most 
irreproachable character. That Will would never be tempted 
by any manner of means to even look at a cigarette. That 
Dolly is very choice in her language and would scorn to 
chew gum. That Olive, my good, wise, economical eldest 
daughter, is married to one of the most industrious men 
you ever saw ! Got that ? 

Mrs. p. Yes. 

^ Mrs. W. As to our servants, they are perfection ! Jothani 
is so wise and efficient; Suke so honest and truthful! I am 
certainly blessed in my charming home, my adorable fam- 
ily and my wonderful . servants ! {Descends from barrel 
after low boiv and ivave of cloth.) 

Mrs. p. {amazed at this change in her friend). Nettie! 

Mrs. W. {on floor, speaks firmly). Yes, Gertie dear, it's 
all true. And, by the way, if you're sure it won't hurt your 
conscience too much, you might spread the news over 
town. I should so like all my friends to know what a dear, 
desirable family and home I have. Tell everybody you see, 
won't you ? You see, when one has so many to influence— - 
so many subconscious minds to instruct — she needs all the 
help of that kind she can get hold of, and— 

Mrs. p. I see, Nettie, and I'll stand by you. {Rises.) I 
must go now. I just must. I hope you'll, succeed. As you 
say, it's a big undertaking; but it's worth it. And if you 
should happen to succeed — 

Mrs. W. Happen? Should? Why, Gertrude, I must! I 
am responsible for my family. 

Mrs. p. And you'll come tonight? To the lecture, you 
know? 

Mrs. W. {firmly). I'll come tonight. 



38 . AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. p. Good ! I'll expect you. And you'll learn so much 
more than I can teH you about the way to g"0 to work. The 
Professor is fine when he gets started. He doesn't handle 
the language any too well in conversation, but he has his 
lecture at his tongue's end, and he's simply wonderful 
when he gets warmed up. {Starts out, turns back at door.) 
Now, Nettie, don't work too hard, don't worry, don't ex- 
pect anything- but the very best, get the subconscious mind 
into working order, and then, presto chango ! ( Waves hand 
suggestively.) All your troul3les will disappear as if by 
magic. Good-bye. (Starts out R.) 

Enter Will, R, brushes roughly past her, throws cap on 
floor ^ jacket across lounge, book on chair. 

Will. Hello, Mamma! 

Mrs. W. Good morning, my son. Did you forget to 
speak to Mrs. Parker? 

Will (looking around, drazvls out). Good morning, 
Mrs. Parker. 

Mrs. p. Good' morning. Will. 

Will (starts C). Lunch ready. Mamma? 

Mrs. W. (dreamily absorbed in thought). I presume so. 
I don't know. 

Will (turning back in amazement). Don't know? 

Mrs. W. William! 

Will. What? 

Mrs. W. Do I smell smoke — cigarette smoke? 

Enter Dolly, R. ^ 

Will. I don't know. 

Mrs. W. Don't know ? 

Will. Somebody may be passing with a cigar. How can 
I tell? 

Dolly (delighted at the revelation). O Will! (Points 
finger at him.) 

Will. Well, they may. What's eating you? 

Dolly (in high glee). What's that you've got behind 
you? (Goes to him and forcibly pulls hand out zmth cigar- 
ette in it.) 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 39 

Will. Stop ! Go away from me ! Mind your own busi- 
ness ! 

Mrs. W. What? A cigarette? In my house? O Will! 

Mrs. p. Boys will be boys, Nettie. I wouldn't be too 
severe with, him. 

Dolly. O, but, Mrs. Parker, he's just a blooming- tough! 
A holy terror! If Dad could only once get his peepers 
glued on him, it's a cinch he wouldn't do a thing to him. 
O no! It's just a mistake! (Laughs tauntingly.) 

Mrs. W. Dolly ! Dolly ! 

Dolly. Well, it's all straight goods. Mamma. I ain't 
stretching the rubber a bit. 

Mrs. W. It has always been such a comfort to me, 
Gertrude, that Dolly was so very choice in her language, 
so very refined in her expressions. 

Mrs. p. It must be, Nettie. So many girls nowadays 
use such dreadful slang. (Dolly stares from one to the 
other dnmbfounded.) 

Mrs. W. Yes. I don't know what I would do if my little 
girl should get any such habit. 

Dolly (to Will, aside). Gee, kid, get next to that! Is 
she bug-house? 

Will (giggles). Better come along, Dolly, and look for 
something to chew on. You may get some o' your nouns 
mixed up with your adjectives if you hang around in here. 

Dolly. Me for the grub, then. (Puts hands on Will's 
shoidders and marches him out C.) On, brother, on! 

Mrs. W. You see, Gertrude — you see — 

Mrs. p. I see. I've always been a little sorry that I had 
only one child, but now — 

Mrs. W. It's certainly disheartening. It's — 

Enter Mr. W., R, zvith packages. 

Mr. W. Lunch ready, Nettie? (The ladies turn to greet 
him.) How do you do, Airs. Parker? (They shake hands.) 

Mrs. p. I was just going, Mr. Weeden. 

Mr. W. Better stay to lunch. (Turns to Und place to 
lay packages.) 

Mrs. W. Yes, won't you stay to lunch, Gertrude? 



40 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. p. Really, can't, you know. You forget. (Raises 
eyebrows significantly. ) 

Mrs. W. O yes; I remember. Well, I'll see you tonight. 

Mrs. p. Till tonight, then, then — {holds out hand). 

Mrs. W. (taking hand). Good-bye. 

Mrs. p. And courage. (Exits R.) 

Mr. W. Where the dickens is a fellow going to set 
these — 

Mrs. W. Better take them out in the dining-room, Charles 
W^illiam. 

Mr. W. Dining-room? (She nods.) But they are all — 

Mrs. W. Never mind. There'll be plenty of room there. 
I feel sure there can't be anything left in any other part 
of the house. 

Mr. W. Humph! (Looks around.) But why isn't this 
— why haven't you — 

Mrs. W. I've had company all the morning, and — 

Mr. W. (again looking around). Company! Good 
Lord ! Here ? 

Mrs. W. Yes — company here. And I couldn't — 

Will (off C.) Dinner! 

Mrs. W. Hurry on out to lunch, Charles William. Don't 
keep the children waiting. I'll come as soon as I can get 
my cap and apron off and get myself a little cleaned up. 
I look like a — 

Mr. W. (scornfully). Irish Bridget! 

Mrs. W. Well, maybe, but— 

Mr. W. When I married you, you were not — 

Mrs. W. The mother of four children. 

Will (off C). Luncheon! Last call! Everybody out! 

Mrs. W. Do hurry, Charles William. The children have 
to get back to school and Suke's waiting to get back to her 
work. 

Mr. W. Well, how long till you — 

Mrs. W. Never mind me. I'll be ready in a minute. 

Mr. W. It certainly does beat the devil how a woman 
can putter, putter, putter away a whole half day, and then 
— (exits C, still grumbling.) 

Mrs. W. And this is the way it goes. (Removes apron, 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 41 

cap, etc., zvhile speaking. Pins collar, arranges hair and 
tries to make herself more presentable.) Talk about the 
subconscious mind! If I have one it must be a regular 
lunatic asylum of conflicting ideas. But what was it that 
Rev. and Mrs. Dunning said? I am responsible for my 
family. I am responsible for my family ! Cuts deep, all 
right. I am responsible for whatever they are, and what- 
ever they say or do — maybe think, for all I know. Every- 
body says it's all my fault, no matter what happens to 
anyone of them. Well, maybe it has been — maybe it has. 
Anyway, from this on I'll give 'em all a good big dose of 
subconscious mind — administered at all hours of day and 
night, and see how they swallow it, and what effect it has. 

All {off C). Mother! Mother! 

Mr. W. (stands in curtains, C). Hurry, Nettie. (Looks 
very impatient.) 

Mrs. W. Yes, yes; I'm coming. (Starts C.) 

Curtain. 



Act II. 



Scene: Breakfast-room. Table laid for breakfast, six 
places, with chairs in position. Fireplace with mantel at 
back. Lounge across R. Archzvay at L., zvith curtains, 
leading into sitting-room. Door at L. back leads to din- 
ing-room proper or kitchen. ■ Door down R. leads to hall- 
zvay. Near L. front stands a broken chair so arranged 
that the break is not noticeable. See Scene Plot for stage 



setting. 



As curtain rises, Suke is discovered placing dishes on 
table. She passes back and forth throughout the first half 
of scene, carrying dishes, etc. During breakfast she stands 
back of Mrs. W., passing dishes, etc., throughout meal. 
Curtain rises, also disclosing Jotttam. standing in front of 
table, tzcisting hat and looking stupidly around room. 

JoTHAM (after a pause). Missus said — she said — I'm 
sure she said — 



42 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

SuKE (pausing with dish in hand, surveying him scorn- 
fully). Y-a-a-a-s ! (He looks at her helplessly. Seeing he 
is not going to speak again, she places dish on table and 
turns hack to the kichen. At door she looks back over 
shoulder, zvith derisive smile.) Humph! (Exits.) 

JoTHAM (scratches head and looks all around). Blamed 
if I can see — (looks from one chair to another.) Doggone 
it! (Begins to examine the chairs about table uncertainly.) 
This chair looks all right. (Goes to another.) And there 
sartin' ain't nothin' at all wrong with this one. (Sits in it, 
tzvirling it hack and forth and swaying it from side to side 
in ezndent enjoyment.) Mighty comforting chair, this here 
is. (Goes to broken chair and surz'eys it from a short dis- 
tance, zvith hand on chin.) Now, what can be out of 
whack with that one? Looks just like the rest? (Sits, chair 
collapses and Jotham sprawls on floor with a yell of pain.) 
Holy smoke ! (After a pause, while he rubs himself all 
over, zvith wry face, he sits up on floor and looks at the 
remains of the chair.) Gee whiz! There must o' been some- 
thing wrong with that one somewhar ! (Rises, feeling for 
broken hones and 'rubbing head.) It went to pieces all on 
a sudden like — it did, for a fac'l 

Enter Suke frovn kitchen. 

SuKE (zvith more dishes). He, he, he! What am de 
mattah wid yo', Jotham? 

Jotham. Why — you see, Suke — dat chair. 

Suke. Yaas, I done sees — dat chair. (Laughs again.) 
It wasn't so mighty comf'able, eh? (Laughs and exits 
kitchen.) 

Jotham. Waal, now, laugh if you see the joke. / don't. 
(Picks up pieces cautiously as though afraid they zvould 
explode.) Missus said — she said — to — to fix it. Yes, she 
surely did say just that — to fix it. But how's a fellow go- 
ing to do it? That's what I want to know. Where's he 
going to commence? And what's he going to do it with? 
(Sighs deeply.) It's more'n I can figger out. (Stands 
holding pieces, looking at them in bewilderment.) 
Enter Suke from kitchen. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 43 

SuKE (with dishes). xAin't yo' done got dat ar cheer o' 
Missus' fixtocated yet, Jotham? Lawd o' massy, but yo' 
sartin' am a right slow one. 

Jotham {looking at her saz'agely). Slow? 

SuKE. Slowerin 'a niggah funeral, Jotham. Yo' am fo' 
a fac'. (Laughs teasingly.) Yo' done ain't so slow when it 
comes to takin' a fall outen yo'self — but yo' am mighty slow 
a-gittin' obah it. (At table.) 

Jotham (angrily). Now, you just look here, Suke. I 
ain't a goin' to — 

Suke (looks up innocently). Youse done ain't gwine 
ter fix dat are cheer f o' Missus ? O sho' now ! Missus sar- 
tin done spects yo' to do dat. 

Jotham. Maybe you'd like to do it yourself. You think 
you know so doggoned much, about it. 

Suke (hands on hips, surveys him haughtily). Who? 
Me? Fix dat cheer, yo' says? I gibs you to undahstan', sah, 
dat I'se de cook lady. 

Jotham. Humph! Lucky for you. (Turns hack to the 
broken chair and bends over, trying to put them together 
in some kind of shape.) 

Suke (at table, aside). Dat ar spoon am a mighty pretty 
pattern. (Picks up spoon and turns it over in her hands, 
admiring it.) Jes' de berry t'ing fo' dis chile to hab some 
day when she done want to set up de housekeep fo' he'self, 
an' some peart yaller boy. (Looks all around apprehen- 
sively, then at Jotham, zvatching him cautiously as she 
slips spoon into the pocket of her apron. Then starts for 
kitchen.) Bettah done git busy, Jotham. I ain't 'spectin' 
dem ar pieces done gwine put deirselves back togeddah all 
ob deir own accord. No, sah. (Looks back over shoidder 
again at entrance, zuith taunting laugh.) 

Jotham. No. Consarn it all. They don't seem to have 
no idee of cutting up no sech. capers. (Standing back, 
scratching head, surveys them as some problem impossible 

'' Enter Mrs. Weeden, L. 

Mrs. W. Good morning, Jotham. (He nods awkzvardly.) 
Isn't this a fine morning? (Looks around.) And how nice 



44 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

the house looks. It is so nice to have everything so straight 
and orderly so early in the morning. And that chair. I 
felt so bad when it iDroke ; but then, I soon thought to my- 
self, ''Now, what do I care? There's Jotham right at hand, 
and he is so bright and smart he always knows just what 
to do with everything, and he'll be able to fix it up again 
in no time." 

Jotham (looks first at her and then at the chair, scratches 
head and speaks dubiously) . Yes'm. 

Mrs. W. It's such a blessing, Jotham, to have a fellow 
like you around. 

Jotham (nods zvith silly smile). Yes'm. 

Mrs. W. Now, some boys — some men — wouldn't have the 
least idea what to do with that chair. But you, Jotham, have 
such a fine mind — you think so fast — you always know 
what to do with, everything, and — 

Enter Suke from kitchen. 

Mrs. W. (turns to greet her). Good morning, Suke. 

Suke. Mawning, Missus. (Goes to table, Mrs. W. 
joins her.) 

Mrs. W. I was just telling Jotham how nice the room 
looked this morning. 

Suke. Yes'm. (Nods to pile of coats, caps, aprons, toys, 
etc., on lounge.) I didn't get time to clar dat are lounge. 
Mum, but I done got ebryt'ing — 

Mrs. W. (ignoring the lounge and apparently not hear- 
ing). How good it is to think that there is never anything 
out of place in this house. 

Suke (uncertainly). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. It is such a comfort to realize that everybody 
in the whole family is so careful to have "a place for every- 
thing and everything in its place." (While saying this, 
gathers things front lounge and carries them out R. door, 
returning immediately, Suke ivatcJiing her with wide open 
eyes.) Don't you think so, Suke? 
. Suke (staring at her wonderingly). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. (walks to table, surveying it critically). And 
how nicely the table looks. You have the silver shining so 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 45 

nicely. It is such a joy, Siike, to have a good cook who 
can be trusted to handle all these nice expensive things. 

SuKE {looks down at pocket apprehensively, speaks in 
troubled tone). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. Some girls, you know, who like pretty things 
as well as you do, might almost be tempted to steal now 
and then a piece of silver, or — 

SuKE (trernbling). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. Of course, Suke, I know that you, who are so 
honest and truthful, can hardly understand how any girl 
could even want to take a thing — even a pin, that did not 
belong to her, but still they tell me there are girls — (pauses, 
shakes head and sighs). 

Suke (looking around as for means of escape). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. But I have always been so thankful that you 
were not at all that kind — that you were so strictly honest 
and truthful — ■ 

Suke (her agitation increasing). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. And that I need never be the least bit afraid 
that you would even think of touching the least thing that 
didn't rightfully belong to you — 

Suke (almost frenzied). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. (looking around room again). Well, now that 
things are moving along so nicely here, I'll go on into the 
sitting-room and see if there are any finishing touches 
needed there. (Pauses by Jotham.) That's right, Jotham. 
I am sure you will make my poor old chair look as good as 
new. You have such a fine mind — you are so bright and 
so smart. (Smiles at him encouragingly and exits L., 
Jotham staring at her.) 

Suke (rolling eyes in fear). What have come obah 
Missus dis heah mawning? 'Spects dis heah chile done bet- 
tah put dat ar spoon back whar she done fin' it. (Replaces 
spoon, goes out kitchen door, casting many apprehensive 
glances tozvard sitting-room.) 

Jotham (has been bending over pieces, aimlessly at- 
tempting to put them in shape, now stands up and scratches 
head, looking dumbfounded). I have such a fine mind — 
am so bright, so smart. Gee! (Finally gathers up pieces 



46 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

in his arms.) Come on, you pieces. Come on, old chair. 
Didn't you hear Missus tellin' how smart I am? Just you 
come with me. I'll fix you. You bet! (Goes up tozvard 
kitchen door, continually dropping pieces and having to 
stop to pick them up. Speaks to self.) I have such a fine 
mind — I am so bright — so smart — so bright, — so smart — a 
fine mind. (Disappears into kitchen, repeating the zvords 
to himself as if fascinated by the sound.) 

Enter Suke from kitchen, Mrs. W. from L. 

Mrs. W. Suke, if any young man calls today and asks 
for Miss Beth, will you please remember to tell him that 
she is engaged and cannot see him? 

Suke. Yas'm. Engaged. Cannot see him. Yas'm. I'se 
done recomember. 

Mrs. W. You won't forget? 

Suke. Suah, Mum, dis chile done won't forget. (Exits 
kitchen.) 

Enter Will^ R., with a clatter. 

Will. Whoopee! All hands for breakfast! Why, hello, 
Mamma! (Throws coat and cap, hooks, etc., on lounge.) 

Mrs. W. Good morning, my son. 

Will. Dolly up yet? 

Mrs. W. I don't think she has come down stairs yet. 
Will. How neat and tidy you look this morning. (Will 
gives several surreptitious pats to his hair and brushes his 
suit slyly.) And how nice it is of you not to throw your 
things around in the disorderly way some boys of your age 
have of doing. I want you to know. Will, how deeply your 
mother appreciates your neat, orderly habits. (Exits L., 
smiling on him sweetly.) 

Will (picks up cap, jacket, ball bat, ball, books, etc., 
from lounge). Now what in the world can Mamma mean 
by all that gush ? Me ! Keep things in their places ? Neat, 
orderly ways? Gee whiz! (Exits R., zvith things.) 

Dolly (off R. as though from upstairs). Is that you, 
Will? 

Will (off R.). Sure thing! 

Dolly. What are you doing out in the hall ? 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 47 

Will. Hanging up my things. 

Dolly. Great guns ! You don't say ! Ain't sick, are you ? 

Will. Cheese it, Dolly. Coming down? 

Dolly. Soon's as I can find my hair ribbon, and hand- 
kerchief, and a hundred or so little things like that. Break- 
fast ready? 

Will. Of course. Get a move on yourself. 

Enter Will, R. 

Will. Wonder if a fellow dare to light a coffin-nail in 
this room. {Takes cigarette papers from pocket, looks at 
them, starts to extract one, then hears sound out R. Looks 
around apprehensively and hastily replaces them.) 

Enter Dolly, R. 

Dolly. Gee, Will, you look guilty. (Chews gum vigor- 
ously.) What's the rip? 

Will. O nothing. (Hands in pocket, zuhistles indiffer- 
ently.) 

Dolly. Quit yer bluffing, kid, and 'fess up. 

Will. O well, I just thought I heard the governor 
coming; that's all. 

Dolly. Nope. Nary a governor. Just me. (Looking 
around room.) Where in the dickens is my hair ribbon, 
anyway? I can't go to school like this. 

Will. Saw something that looked like a hair ribbon, 
or a shoe lace, or a — a — some kind of a string in that sit- 
ting-room cyclone yesterday. That sure was "a place for 
everything, with everything in that one place." 

Dolly (goes to door L. and looks out). Golly! 'Tain't 
there, now. Everything's as slick as grease and as straight 
as a ruler. That's something like other folkses homes, 
ain't it, kid? Somebody's been getting busy. 

Will (hands still in pockets, indifferently). O every- 
body works but father. 

Mrs. W. (off L.). Did you want something, Dolly? 

Dolly (jumps back from door, startled). Why, Mamma! 
I didn't know you were in there. 

Mrs. W. Lost anything 

Dolly. Was only looking for my hair ribbon. 



48 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. The red one? 

Dolly. Uh-hiih ! 

Mrs. W. (z'ery szveetly). I put it in that nice plush box 
on your dresser, dear. I always say how nice it is that you 
always have such a tidy room, with all your things in such 
perfect order that you know just where to find them. 

Dolly. Humph ! ( Turns hack to Will. ) Say, kid what's 
gone wrong with Mamma this morning? Jerusalem! But 
you ought to take a peep into my room ! What's she driv- 
ing at? 

Will. Search me. I thought she was making fun of me 
at first, but she smiled so sweetly, and looked so serious, 
and — and — downright earnest, you know, as if she be- 
lieved what she said, that I — I don't know what to make 
of it. 

Dolly. She's got me, all right, all right. Well, I must 
go up and get my hair ribbon. -(Starts out R. with a 
bounce, knocks into Mr. W., who is just entering with news- 
paper.) Gee, dad! I didn't see you coming. {Exits.) 

Enter Mr. W., R. 

Mr. W. {watching her angrily). Well, what in the name 
of— 

Will {giggles). Earthquakes and cyclones, dad. 

Mr. W. {turns hack into room). Should say so. Such 
actions in a girl of her age. That's the way your mother 
has brought her up — the worst rowdy of a girl I ever saw ! 
And all your mother's fault — yes, it is ! All your mother's 
fault! Where is your mother? {Walking angrily ahout 
room.) 

Will {points L. door). In there. 

Mr. W. Breakfast ready? 

Will. Hain't heard. {Walks ahout nervously, hands in 
pockets.) 

Mr. W. Humph. ! Seven o'clock and no breakfast yet ! 
What kind of a house does that mother of yours pretend 
to keep, anyway? Have I always got to be an hour or two 
late at my business, just because I can't get anything to 
eat before the middle of the day ? Great Caesar ! Was break- 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 49 

fast ever ready in this house? No, of course not. That's 
your mother's way of running things. I'd just Hke a try 
at this house for awhile myself. Nothing to do but get 
three meals a day and keep a little house in order, and then 
a man can never get a bite to eat in time to get down 
town in the morning till the day's half gone. A man's a 
fool to get married! {Sits lounge, reads paper.) 

Enter Beth^ R. 

Beth. Breakfast ready? 

Will. Search me. (Still zvalking about.) 

Mr. W. (looking up sarcastically). Breakfast ready? 
Humph ! Did you ever know breakfast to be ready ? Your 
mother's in there. (Points L.) 

Beth (to Will). What you doing? 

Will. Nothing. 

Beth. What's wrong? 

Will. Nothing. 

Beth. Humph! r^ , ta 

hnter Dolly, R. 

Dolly (goes to Beth, speaks aside). Seen Mamma 
this morning? 

Beth. No. Why? (Dolly shakes head.) Anything 
the matter? 

Dolly (mysteriously, with glance tozvard L. door). I 
ain't wise to nothing. 

Enter Suke, with tureen of baked potatoes. 
SuKE. You-uns can come to yo' bweakfast now. It done 
am ready. 

Mr. W. (lays down paper, sarcastically) . A wonder! 
Will (calls). Breakfast! Whoop-ee! 
Beth and Dolly (together). Mamma! 
Enter Mrs. W., L. 

Mrs. W. All ready, children. Good morning, Beth. 
(They take places at table, Mrs. W. at L. end, Mr. W. 
at R. end, Beth in middle chair at back of table, Dolly 
on her R. and Will on her L. Suke stands back of Mrs. 
W., waiting on table.) Any news in the paper this morn- 
ing, Charles William? 



so AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mr. W. Not as I can see. What time do I get to read the 
paper, when I can never get my breakfast till everybody else 
in town has gone to work? Hand it here, Suke. (Suke gets 
paper from lounge zvhere he laid it and hands it to him. He 
reads, feeding himself zvith one hand.) 

Mrs. W. {pouring coffee and handing cups to Suke, zvho 
passes them around.) By the way, Beth dear, before I for- 
get, I expect some ladies here for tea this afternoon, and 
I am going to send them up to your room to lay off their 
wraps. 

Beth (in dismayed protest). O Mamma, it — 

Mrs. W. (interrupting, as though not hearing). Your 
room is always in such perfect order that it is a pleasure 
to me to ask my guests into it. 

Betpi. Why, Mamma Weeden, you know it is no such 
thing! Why, it's literally strewn from one end to the other 
with — 

Mrs. W. (continues, still unheeding). I was telling Mrs. 
Parker only yesterday what a comfort you had always been 
to me in your tidy habits and orderly ways. 

Beth. O Mamma, please don't make — 

Mr. W. (impatiently). Nettie, what are you — (looking 
over paper.) ' 

Mrs. W. (ignoring all interruptions) . And do you know, 
papa, that our dear daughter is going to sing in the choir? 

Mr. W. (a little more pleasanth). No. Is this true, 
Beth? 

Mrs. W. (giving Beth no chance to answer). Rev. and 
Mrs. Dunning called yesterday to make the arrangements. 

Mr. W. That's nice, I am sure, Beth. 

Mrs. W. Yes, I have always so appreciated Beth's 
eagerness to help in church work. So different from some 
young ladies of her age. 

Dolly (leans across Beth, speaks to Will). Now, 
what do you know about that? 

Will (same business). It's a stunner, all right, all right. 

Mrs. W. (looking archly at Beth). Of course, Jack's 
being in the choir may have had some influence — 

Beth (distressed). Mamma! 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 51 

Mrs. W. But that's another joy. Some girls are so prone 
to bad company. My Beth was never attracted by any but 
the very best — like dear Jack. (Beams on Beth, 2vho hangs 
head.) 

Dolly. Suke ! 

SuKE. Yas'ni. 

Dolly. Pass the spuds. 

Suke. Yas'm. (Passes tureen.) 

Mrs. W. (complacently). Indeed, I have so much to be 
thankful for. When I see some girls of Dolly's age, for 
instance, using such unrefined expressions — actually slang, 
some of fhem, mind you — and then remember what choice 
language my little Dolly always uses — 

Mr. W. (lays down paper in exasperation). For heav- 
en's sake, Ida Jeanette Weeden, what in the dickens has 
got into you this morning? You seem possessed by the very 
spirit of evil — the father of lies and deceit! Can't you do 
anything but sit across there, grinning like a Chinese idol, 
and spring such dodgasted, infer — 

Mrs. W. (smiling dreamily, her face as serene as ever). 
And another great source of joy is my dear husband's un- 
failing good temper and his invariable sweet and amiable 
conversation. It is such a glorious inspiration to my daily 
life. No wonder the children are such models in every 
respect with such a father. (Smiles lovingly across at him. 
He looks at her a moment in utter bewilderment, then re- 
sumes his paper zvith a grunt of disgust.) 

Mr. W. (reading). I see another dealer has been con- 
victed of selling cigarettes to boys under age. 

Mrs. W. Indeed! Isn't it splendid that we need never 
worry about our boy being tempted to indulge in so vile 
and demoralizing a habit? 

Mr. W. Yes, indeed. (Beth nudges Will, Dolly looks 
across at him, he hangs head.) 

Mrs. W. Anyway, it cannot possibly concern us. Our 
Will would never even think of them. 

Mr. W. (looking at Will sternly). If I thought for a 
minute he ever would, I'd — I'd — I'd — why, I declare, I'd 



52 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

break every single bone in his worthless body! (Will 
trembles.) 

Mrs. W. {in a voice of sincere admiration). You were 
always such a kind, tender, indulgent father, Charles Wil- 
liam. 

Olive entering R. 

Olive! At breakfast, folks? 

Mrs. W. Yes, Olive ; come right in. 

Olive. Indeed I will. Just ran in to see if I couldn't get 
a cup of coffee. Caleb isn't out of bed yet. 

All {except Mrs. W.) Now what do you think of that? 

Olive. And I do get so hungry mornings waiting for 
my breakfast. 

All {except Mrs. W.) Should say so. 

Will {jumping up, glad of a chance to escape). Take 
my place, Olive. I'm just off to school. 

Dolly {jumping up). Here, too. 

Mrs. W. Bring another plate, Suke. 

SuKE. Yas'm. {Clears azvay Will's dishes, replacing 
them zvith clean ones.) 

Olive. O but it's so nice to live so near mother that you 
can run in at any time and save yourself from utter star- 
vation. 

Dolly and Will {together). Good-bye, all. 

All. Good-bye. 

Dolly {at door, aside to Will). Do you think Mamma's 
sick? What if our bad ways had driven her crazy? 

Will. 'Sh! Don't think of such things. (Mrs. W. pours 
coffee for Olive.) 

Dolly. But, don't you know, people have lost their minds 
over just such little things. And we have been simply hor- 
rid in ever so many nasty ways. Will Weeden. You know 
we have. (Looks back at Mrs. W. anxiously.) 

Will. Well, come on to school now and quit your croak- 
ing. That won't mend anything. {Takes her arm and pulls 
her off R.) 

Olive. Got my dress, mother, and it's fine! 

Mrs. W. I am sure you were very wise and prudent in 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 53 

your selection, my daughter. You always are. (Smiling at 
her.) 

Olive (defiantly). It's pale blue silk. 

Mrs. W. I take such a great pride in your economy and 
good judgment, Olive. 

Olive (aghast). Mine? (Mrs. W. nods, smiling 
proudly.) O come now, mother, you know I — 

Mrs. W. Some women are so reckless and extrava- 
gant in their early married years that they rob their hus- 
bands of all interest in life and work and bring them at 
last into debt, and even to the meanest poverty. (Olive 
hangs head, toying with fork.) I have always rejoiced 
that there was none of that in your nature. 

Olive. Mamma ! 

Mrs. W. I feel sure Caleb will some day become a 
very wealthy man. With such an economical wife to help 
him save, how could he help it? 

Olive. O please — 

Mr. W. (looking up from paper again). O cut that out, 
Nettie. You make me tired ! 

Mrs. W. Of course, you inherit a great deal of that 
from the strong, well-balanced, well-controlled nature of 
your father. I have always been so proud of my dear 
husband. (Beaming across at him.) 

Mr. W. (looking up from paper again). I see by the 
paper that some fool Hindu or other is giving a series of 
lectures at the Auditorium this week on that nonsensical 
New Thought doctrine we read so much about lately. 

Beth. What is New Thought, anyway? 

Olive. O something to do with mental science. Chris- 
tian science, suggestion, the new psychology, and all those 
things, isn't it, papa? 

Mr. W. Yes; all that rot! Plain foolology, I call it. 

Olive. But it's becoming very popular, papa. They say 
it's spreading rapidly. 

Mr. W. O yes. There's plenty of empty heads in the 
world to take it all in. 

Olive. I don't know a single thing about it, myself. 

Mr. W. All the better for you; such tom-fool dope as 



54 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

it is. And for fully matured human beings to take up with, 
too, and swallow down, spoon and all, just as if they liked 
it. It puts a thinking man out of all patience with hu- 
manity. (Rising, throzvs paper on floor.) 

Mrs. W. {rising). Well, I must go to work. (Sees 
paper on floor.) It is so nice of you, Charles William, 
never to throw things around the house the way some 
men do. 

Mr. W. (picks up paper impatiently). In the name of 
Nebuchadnezzar, Nettie, do let up on that confounded 
jibberish of — 

Mrs. W. (continuing as though he had not spoken). 
It makes it so easy to keep a straight, orderly house, you 
know. (Exits L.) 

Beth (on Mr. W.'s right). Papa, what ails her? (Grasps 
his arm, leads him down front.) 

Olive (on his left, grasping his left arm). What has 
happened to her? 

Mr. W. Blamed if I know ! It must be some dodgasted — 

Olive. Can it be that the hard work — 

Beth. And the worry — 

Olive. The constant muss — 

Beth. And fuss — 

Olive (anxiously looking at L.). Have — ha"^e — 

Beth (in horrified tone) — unsettled her — 

Mr. W. (suddenly catching their thought). Great heav- 
ens, girls, you don't mean she is crazy? 

Olive. Something's wrong. 

Beth. She's not a bit herself. 

Mr. W. Good Lord! Mad? Insane? My wife— Nettie? 

Beth. I haven't heard her say, *'0 dear, dear, dear, 
dear!" a single time this morning. 

Olive. No, nor that other favorite expression of hers, 
"Love save my soul !" 

Mr. W. She must be ofit — she must! (Meditatively.) 

Olive. She has been smiling the same sugar-coated 
smile — 

Beth. Yes, and going on in the same idiotic way ever 
since I came down stairs. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 55 

Mr. W. I'll see Dr. Hume this very morning. 
Olive and Beth {together). Do. 
Olive. But don't let her suspect — 
Beth. Goodness, no! 

Enter Suke from kitchen, to clear table. 

Mr. W. {turning to her, speaking mysteriously) . Suke! 

Suke. Yas'r. 

Mr. W. Has your mistress — {pauses, with uneasy 
glance toward L. door.) 

Suke. Fo' de Lawd, Massa, I t'ink she am done be- 
witched ! 

Mr. W. ] 

Beth. V {together, in alarm). Bewitched! 

Olive. ) 

Suke {rolling eyes). She done go on so cwazy-like, sah ! 
I'se done clean afeared ob her — I is ! An' eben dat ar 
Jotham, he am skeered mighty nigh to deaff — an' — an' — 

Mr. W. {glancing L. again uneasily). That'll do, Suke. 
That's all I wanted to know. (Suke exits, kitcJien, and 
he turns to girls again.) 

Beth. She's got me booked for that measly old choir 
— and I just can't bear to go. 

Mr. W. You can't. Why? 

Beth {hesitatingly). Tack — 

Mr. W. What about Jack? 

Beth. Why, he — he — he sings. 

Mr. W. {puzzled). Well? 

Beth {doesn't ivant her father to know truth). O — I — 
I — {looks for help t'ozvard Olive.) 

Olive {breaking in- hastily). But about Mamma — 
what'll we do? 

Beth. We just must do something at once. 

Mr. W. I'll bring Dr. Hume home with me to luncheon 
and have him size her up — quite on the sly, you know. 

Olive. Yes, yes, and I'll run home and 'phone to Rev. 
Dunning. I think he'd better look in. 

Mr. W. {nodding assent). Yes. 

Olive. And you, Beth — 



56 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mr. W. Must stay at home and watch her close. 

Beth. Yes, yes. 

Mr. W. And let me know at once if there should be any 
new developments. 

Girls. O dear! (Looking at one another in despair.) 

Mr. W. One never knows in such cases what may 
happen. 

Girls (as before). O dear! 

Mr. W. Ain't it wisest to be on the safe side? 

Girls. Yes, yes ! 

Mr. W. I must hurry now. I want to see the doctor as 
soon as possible. (Looks at zvatch and scowls at the hour.) 

Olive. And Caleb will surely be up by this time and 
be as hungry as a wolf. (Starts R.) 

Mr. W. Do your best, Beth. I leave her in your hands 
now. Be sure and 'phone me if anything happens. (Turns 
R. zvith Olive..) You see, Olive, it is this way. (Exits 
R. witJi Olive, talking aside to her.) 

Beth (tiptoes to door at L and looks in cautiously, 
then listens intently a minute). ''All's quiet along the Po- 
tomac," just now. (JValks back to center front.) Now I 
must go and dig, dig, dig at my horrid old room for the 
accommodation of those ladies who will expect to find it 
in such excellent order. Heavens! (Exits R.) 

Enter Suke from kitchmi. 

SuKE (working at table). Dat spoon sartin do look right 
tempting, it do for a f ac' ; but no, yo' onery little spoon, 
yo' needn't be a-winkin' at dis heah chile — nary a wink. 
Suke am honest an' troof-ful — yes, sah ! She would not 
eben tech yo' ! No, sah! (Puts hands behind back and 
backs off toward kitchen door, eyes fixed on spoon with 
fascinated ga!:e. Just as she reaches entrance.) 

Dolly runs in R., wearing hat and jacket and carrying 
open purse in her hand. She is all out of breath, as though 
from rapid running. 

Dolly. Suke! O Suke! (Puts hand to side, panting.) 
Suke (jumps, startled out of her fixed gaze and looks 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 57 

badly frightened.) Yas — yas. Why, what am it, Miss 
Dolly? Yo' done skeered de life outen me! 

Dolly. Why, Suke — did you take — a dollar — out of my 
purse? It was lying — on my dresser — upstairs, you know 
■ — and the dollar was in it — last night — and now — when I 
went to buy a book — it was — gone ! 

Suke (rolling eyes). Gone? 

Dolly. Yes, gone — see! (Shozvs empty purse.) Not a 
penny there. 

Mrs. W. {comes to curtains at L. and listens to conver- 
sation, unperceived by others). What is it, I wonder? 
{Aside.) 

Suke {angrily). Gone? And yo' done t'inks I tuk yo' 
old dollah. Miss Dolly? Me? 

Dolly. Why — er — you see, Suke, nobody else has gone 
in my room, and — 

Suke {advancing in real anger, Dolly stepping back at 

each step Suke talzes forward.) Now look here, you kid! 

/ I ain't took yo' money ! No, sah ! I ain't seen yo' money, 

nohow ! De onliest t'ing what I ebbah teches in yo' room 

is yo' gum ! 

Dolly. My gum? 

Suke. Yas'm ; yo' gum ! An' af tah I chews it f o' awhile, 
I alius puts it right stwaight back whar I gets it from, too, 
and sticks it in de very same spot, I does, so whenever yo' 
done wants to chew it yo'self, yo' can fin' yo' cud right 
whar yo' done sticked it yo'self. See? {Turns aivay in 
disgust. ) 

Mrs. W. advancing into room from L. 

Mrs. W. Why, whatever can you mean, vSuke? You 
surely must be making a terrible mistake. You must know 
that my Dolly would never chew gum. Gum ! Ugh ! 
Most certainly not. Nothing would induce her to. (Dolly 
snatches gum from mouth and throws in fireplace.) 

Suke (glaring at Dolly). Humph! 

Mrs. W. But what are you home for, Dolly? You'll be 
late to school if you don't hurry. 

Suke. She done say I tuk her dollah, an' — 

Mrs. W. What? O Dolly! How unjust. When you know 



58 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

how honest and truthful Suke has always been. Bless you, 
child, she wouldn't touch your money. You must have mis- 
laid it somewhere yourself, dear. Suke would never have 
looked in your purse in the world. I know that. {Beams 
on Suke, zvho hangs head guiltily, while Dolly stares at 
her mother.) 

Dolly. I'm sorry, Suke — if — but you — {stainmeringly.) 

Mrs. W. Run up to my room, dear, and get another dol- 
lar to pay for your book out of my purse, and tonight, 
when you have time, you can search for the one you have 
mislaid. 

Dolly {going R.). All right. Mamma. Thank you. But 
it's certainly mighty queer. {At R. entrance looks hack at 
Suke, shakes head and exits. Suke exits kitchen.) 

Mrs. W, How beautifully it works already. What a 
wonderful thing that subconscious mind is. I'm so thank- 
ful I found out about it. {Starts L.) 

Beth {looking in R.). Are you all right. Mamma? 

Mrs. W. {turning in surprise). All right? Why, of 
course ! Why ? 

Beth {confused). O nothing. {Withdraws.) 

Mrs. W. {goes to R. to door.) Beth! 

Enter Suke from kitchen and sets table hack out of way. 

Beth {off R.). Yes? 

Mrs. W. Where are you going? 

Beth. Back upstairs! 

Mrs. W. What are you doing? 

Beth. Cleaning up my room! (Suke raises hands in 
horror and exits.) 

Mrs. W. {walks hack tozvard center, smiling signifi- 
cantly to herself). Cleaning up her room. {Loud tramp- 
ing out R.) Who is coming down? 

Enter Caleb, R., dragging feet noisily. 

Mrs. W. O Caleb ! My dear son-in-law. I am so glad 
to see you so early in the morning. 
'Caleb {amazed). Early? 

Mrs. W. Yes, though I know, of course, that you must 
have been working for hours. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 59 

Caleb (as before). Hours! 

Mrs. W. Of course^. Do sit down a minute. I want to 
tallv to you. 

Caleb (sits lounge, lazily). Talk? 

Mrs. W. (sits chair). Yes, I have wanted for a long time 
to be able to tell you how much I appreciate Olive's good 
fortune in getting such an industrious, ambitious and skill- 
ful husband to take care of her and bless her life. 

Caleb {surprised out of his laziness — jumps up). 
What? 

Mrs. W. Sit down. {He sits again, looking bezvil- 
dered.) Yes, I mean it. I have long wanted to be able to 
say this to you. A good husband is such a blessing, and 
you are making Olive so happy. 

Caleb { jumping up again). Happy? 

Mrs. W. Yes, happy. Sit down, Caleb. {He sits again.) 
You must be tired, and this little rest will do you good. 
As I was saying, you are making Olive so happy. You 
have given her such a fine home, and you keep it so nice, 
and you provide for her so well. 

Caleb {jumping up again). I? 

Mrs. W. {rising and laying hand on his arm). Yes, of 
course, my son, and I want you to know how much we all 
appreciate it. {He turns in fright tozvard the door, seek- 
ing escape. She follows.) You are a fine fellow, Caleb — 
a model husband. How fortunate my dear girl was to meet 
you. 
^ Caleb {at door). Yes, yes. 

Mrs. W. {hand on arm). Don't hurry. 

Caleb {nervously). I must! I have so much to do at 
home. No time to waste. 

Mrs. W. (admiringly). Always so busy! Such an indus- 
trious man! (Exit Caleb. She zvalks back to center of 
room, th ought f idly.) I am responsible for my family. 
Then, of course, it stands to reason that I must make out 
of my family something worth being responsible for. That's 
logic. Well, I'll go up to my room awhile now, I guess, 
and practice the concentration exercises that Professor 
Majarajah taught us how to do last night. (Exits R.) 



60 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Enter Suke, from kitchen. 
SuKE. It sartin am amazin' how Missus do keep a-goin' 
on. I'se mos' afeard to budge myself. {Starts out L. door.) 

Chip enters R. cautiously, speaks loud ivhisper. 

Chip. Hist ! there ! You black Topsy ! Alone ? 

SuKt: {turns startled, then recovers and grozvs indig- 
nant). Not so much 'lone dat Fse gwine be mashed on 
by any pore white trash, I can tol yo', sah ! 

Chip {laughs scornfidly). Mashed on? That's a good 
one on me. But say, look here. See this? {Holds tip dol- 
lar temptingly. Suke grins and nods.) Bet you do. Trust 
a nigger wench for that. Well, say — {looks all around 
apprehensively), is — is — is Beth home? 

Suke. Miss Beth? {He nods impatiently.) Suah, she 
am in, but she done am engaged. 

Chip. Engaged? Sure she is. Don't you s'pose I know 
that, you female coon? Why, she's engaged to me! 
{Straightens up proudly and struts.) 

Suke. You? 

Chip {points self proudly). Me! {Bozvs low.) 

Suke. Well, anysomehow, sah, you'se done cawn't see 
her dis mawnin'. Kase she ain't gwine ter see no fellahs 
today. No, sah ! 

Chip {wheedling). O but look here, now. {Takes out 
another dollar and jingles the tzvo together.) How do you 
like the clink, clink, clink — eh? 

Enter Mrs. W., R. 

Mrs. W. {advancing to them). Mr. Whitney, is it not? 

Chip. You've struck it the first clip, ma'am. But I ain't 
much used to that handle. Most folks put it ''Chip" for 
short. 

Mrs. W. {szveetly). Very well, then, I'll say "Chip,'^ 
too. {He grins.) I am so sorry, you poor boy, that my 
Beth does not care more for your company than she does. 
(Suke returns to kitchen.) 

Chip. O you're joking. 

Mrs. W. Joking? O no. 

Chip. Or bluffing. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH'. 61 

Mrs. W. Bluffing? 

Chip. Sure, Mike ! I know Beth. 

Mrs. W. Then of course you know that for years her 
affections have been entirely centered upon Mr. Philley. 

Chip. That guy? Rats! I knocked his eye out. 

Mrs. W. It is a hard task, Chip, to have to tell you this. 
You are such a nice, refined, manly boy. 

Chip. Holy smoke! 

Mrs. W. a real — what is it? Diamond in the rough. 

Chip. Me? 

Mrs. W. That I do so hate to cause you disappointment. 

Chip. O cut the gush, ma'am. It don't go down. 

Mrs. W. But of course these long attachments — (hand 
on his arm.) 

Chip. Rats! She hates that young Philley! She hain't 
got no sort o' use for — (trying to shake her hand off.) 

Mrs. W. (leading him gently to door, smiling sweetly 
and sympathetically, not heeding his protests at all). And 
you know — 

Chip. Not me! 

Mrs. W. In spite of petty quarrels and little misunder- 
standings, they always endure. And so — 

Chip (at door). So you want me to beat it. Humph! 
I tumble. 

Mrs. W. Good-bye, Chip. As I said, I am very sorry 
for you. I know what deep suffering it will cost you, and 
I am very, very sorry. But you see how it is. 

Chip. Yes, ma'am — yes, I see. I'm next ! I'm on ! I 
savvy ! O yes ! One of us two is bughouse. Is it you — 
or me? 

Mrs. W. (smiling as szveetly as ever). As I said my 
poor boy — 

Chip (ptdls azvav from her and exits, R). So long! 

Mrs. W. (zmlking hack to C). O it is working — it is 
certainly working — more beautifully than I even dared to 
hope. And what a new interest in life it is for me! It's 
just as the Professor said. It's making my whole life dif- 
ferent. (Telephone rings. She anszvers.) Hello! Yes, 
Charles William, it is Nettie talking. Of course I'm all 



62 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

right. Why shouldn't I be? What? O yes, yes — never fclt 
better in my life. What? Who? O Dr. Hume. Certainly, 
dear husband, bring him to luncheon, by all means. Why, 
you know, Charles William, we are always glad to have 
people drop into lunch unexpectedly. Why, Suke enjoys 
the little extra work it makes her. Of course. Good-bye. 
{Hangs tip receiver and turns away from telephone.) It is 
rather strange. What kind of a business deal can he be 
having with Dr. Hume, I wonder, that won't give him time 
to go home? Suke never likes a guest at lunch. {Catches 
herself and puts hands over lips.) O what am I saying? 
{Calls.) Suke! 

Suke {sticks head in from kitchen). Yas'm. 

Mrs, W. Mr. Weeden has just called up that he will 
bring Dr. Hume home to lunch with him. (Suke frowns 
and starts to speak in protest, but Mrs. W. gizrs her no 
chance.) I know, Suke, how delighted you always are to 
have company at lunch, and I am sure it will be a great 
joy to you to make a little extra effort for such an old 
friend of the family as our doctor. 

Suke {grudgingly). Yas'm. .(J^z7/it/rawj.) 

Enter Beth, R. 

Beth. Mamma! 

Mrs. W. {turning). Yes, dear. 

Beth. Are you all right? 

Mrs. W. Why, of course I'm all right. What can you 
mean, child? I'm always all right. 

Beth {looking at her closely). I know, but — {hesitates) 
■ — say, Mamma, do you know anything about what became 
of my left glove? 

Mrs. W. Glove? No. I put one of them on your chift'o- 
nier last night. 

Beth. Yes, I found that — it was the right one. I left 
them both on the table in the sitting-room yesterday morn- 
ing, and now one is missing. 

Mrs. W. I'm sure I don't know anything of it. I car- 
ried all the things from the sitting-room upstairs. 

Enter Suke from kitchen. Listens. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. , 63 

Beth. Yes, I know. I found everything but that. Do 
jyou think that Suke — 

Mrs. W. Suke? O no; certainly not. I am sure Suke is 
too honest and truthful to touch a thing that wasn't her 
own. (Suke shakes head, exits.) 

Beth. Why, Mamma! (Stares at her a moment, but 
Jier smile does not change, so turns to R. again.) Well, I'll 
take another hunt. {Exits R.) 

Enter Jotham noisily from kitchen zvith finished chair. 

JoTHAM. See, Mum. See. I fix him. Fix him fine. 

Mrs. W. Indeed you did, Jotham. {Examines chair.) 
And it's just as good as new, isn't it? I am so glad. 
(Jotham stands grinning zvith delight.) And so proud of 
you, Jotham. I was afraid I might have to throw it away, 
hut it was always such a good old chair, and I know what a 
help you always are. 

Jotham {with silly grin). Yes, Mum. 

Mrs. W. And what a fine mind you have — so bright — 
so wise — so smart. 

Jotham {as before). Yes, mum. 

Mrs. W. So I just said to myself, **Jotham can do any- 
thing — yes anything." And you see. {Points to chair sig- 
nificantly. He grins proudly. Doorbell rings. Suke comes 
in from kitchen, crosses to R.) Bring any callers right in 
here this morning, Suke. 

Suke. Yas'm. {Exits R.) 

Jotham {excitedly, pantomimes his zvords). I find the 
place ! I find every piece ! I find the stick-em ! I fasten 
'em tight ! I make 'em stick ! All my own self ! 

Mrs. W. Of course. It is just as I have always wanted 
to say, Jotham. You are bright and smart. You have a 
fine mind. You can do anything. {He starts for kitchen.) 
Set it back against the wall as you go out, Jotham. 

Jotham (picks up chair and starts). Yes, Mum. I am 
so bright — so smart — I can do anything — anything. (Sets 
chair against zvall and exits kitchcji.) 

Enter Suke, R. 



64 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

SuKE (looking scared). It clone am dal black voodoo 
doctah fellah, Mum. 

Mrs. W. {puzzled). Black voodoo doctor? 

SuKE {rolling eyes). Yas'm. Dat witch doctor — had I 
done better let — 

Mrs. W. Why, who, what? Witch doctor? 

Enter Prof. B. M., R. 

Mrs. W. Professor, this is so kind of you. Do come 
right in and sit down. {Shakes hands with him, while 
SuKE backs off out to kitchen, keeping her gaze fastened 
on him till she is safely off stage.) 

Prof. B. M. {sits). O, I can but a minute tarry with 
Madame — but one little minute linger with her by the way. 
I wanted only to see how well you were progressing this 
lovely morning. {Looks around room.) I see all is well. 
All is good. {Looks at her critically.) Madame is good, 
too. Is it not true? And the new — what you call? experi- 
ment — how goes it with Madame? 

Mrs. W. Beautifully, Professor. Of course, I have as 
yet been able to make but a very small start, you know ; 
but every little suggestion I have a chance to drop seems 
to have taken some root already — even with my servants 
and my little boy — and — well, you can see some of the most 
visible results for yourself. {Waves hand around room. 
Sits. ) 

Prof. B. M. {looking around room, enthusiastically) . It 
is true — superb, Madame ! But remember, it is not the one 
suggestion, nor yet the two, but the many, whether the 
auto-suggestion, or the communicated suggestion, that does 
the work. Listen ! You drive a nail. {She nods.) The first 
blow of the mallet — hammer — what you say? 

Mrs. W. Hammer. 

Prof. B. M. It is well — hammer, then — may not more 
than make a dent — a crease — a mark — see? May not even, 
so to speak, pierce through the surface of the wood. But 
do you stop? {She shakes head.) No! You are no fool, 
Madame~no lunatic — no idiot — what you say? You do not 
stop. You keep pounding, pounding, pounding at the same 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 65 

nail — the very same nail, Madame, till It strikes home to 
the very soul of the wood! See? 

Mrs. W. Yes, yes. It is very plain. Professor. It is the 
force of repeated suggestions. 

Prof. B. M. Precisely, Madame. And remember your 
Bible again, Madame. "Whatsoever you ask, believe that 
you have already received it — " 

Mrs. W. (repeats, dreamily). "That ye have already re- 
ceived it, — " 

Prof. B. M. (nods). "And ye shall receive it." "Ac- 
cording to your faith, be it unto you." (Rises.) 

Mrs. W. Yes, yes — "according to your faith." (Rises.) 

Prof. B. M. And I, Madame, I must now away to the 
residence of Madame de Secretary, your so good friend. 

Mrs. W. Yes. 

Prof. B. M. And I will tell her with much joy how well 
it is with her friend of the blue, blue eyes. 

Mrs. W. Do. Tell all my friends — everybody — every- 
where ! I want every one to know how exceedingly blessed 
I am in my home and family. And you will come again. 
Come often, that I may learn more — more — more of this 
wonderful philosophy that is to make my whole life dif- 
ferent ! 

Prof. B. M. Assuredly, Madame. I will with delight 
come many, many times. (Bows low.) Be the morning 
good to you, Madame. (Goes R.) 

Mrs. W. That is a very sweet way of putting our con- 
ventional "Good morning," Professor. (Following him to 
door.) 

Prof. B. M. And remember, "According to your faith, 
be it unto you." (Exits, R.) 

Mrs. W. What a wonderful man ! What a wonderful 
creed! And what wonders it is already working in me 
and my home ! I say to myself, "I must keep sweet ! I can 
keep sweet! I will keep sweet!" and I make myself smile, 
smile, smile, and — why, I don't feel any temptation to be 
anything else. That's the mental attitude, I suppose. Such 
a short time I've had to think about it, too. Where is that 
little book he loaned me last night, I wonder? "Just How 



66 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

to Wake the Solar Plexus." It's in the sitting-room. I 
have time enough now to concentrate for — {goes L. zvhile 
speaking, and is about to pass out of door, when — ) 

Enter Jack, R. 

Jack. Are you alone, Mrs. Weeden? 

Mrs. W. {turns quickly). Yes, Jack. 

Jack. I have a music book here I borrowed of Beth 
when we were practicing for the cantata at the church. 
I thought I'd stop and leave it on my way down town. 

Mrs. W. {cheerily). All right. Jack. {Takes book. 
Jack turns tozvard R.) 

Jack {at door, turns back). Is she — is she — going to — 
sing in the choir? 

Mrs. W. Of course. 

Jack. She is? Why, I heard — 

Mrs. W. Certainly she is going to sing in the choir. 
She loves music, and she loves church work. And besides 
— {smiling at hini archly) — aren't you there? 

Jack. I? Why, of course, but — {mystified). 

Mrs. W. And' isn't that enough ? Surely, Jack, you are 
not so blind that you do not know how much she has al- 
ways thought of you? 

Jack {sadly). Once I thought so, but — 

Mrs. W. And still thinks. Why, Jack, she wouldn't 
even look at any other boy. Surely you must know that. 

Jack. Look? Humph! Why, lately— 

Mrs. W. And it would just break her heart if anything 
came between you. 

Jack. Why, Mrs. Weeden, you evidently don't — 

Mrs. W. Don't get discouraged or down-hearted. It 
will all come right. I know how much she thinks of you. 

Jack. Wish I did. {Pulls out glove and looks at it 
slyly.) 

'Mrs. W. And Beth's a good girl. 

Jack. Of course. -{Kisses glove bashfully, keeping eye 
on Mrs. W.) 

Mrs. W. She wouldn't cause you any unnecessary pain 
for the world. But you must have faith — and be patient — 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. dl 

Jack. Faith? {Doorbell rings. He replaces glove in 
guilty haste.) This must be your busy day. 

Mrs. W. I'd better answer the bell, if you will excuse 
me. Suke is busy with lunch. 

Jack. Certainly. {She exits R.) What in the world can 
be the matter with Mrs. Weeden. Does she really believe 
what she says, or is she trying to make a fool of me, or 
to cover up something? She surely acts as if she had sud- 
denly taken leave of her senses. 

Mrs. W. [off R.). Come right in this way, Brother and 
Sister Dunning. 

Enter Mrs. W., R., follozved by Rev. D. and Mrs. D. 

Mrs. W. I am spending the forenoon in the breakfast- 
room, you see, to be nearer the kitchen in case I need to 
lend a hand in hurrying the luncheon. 

Rev. D. Quite right. Sister Weeden. 

Mrs. D. Certainly, Sister Weeden. 

Rev. D. And how do you do, Mr. Philley? (Shakes 
hands with Jack.) 

Mrs. D. Yes, how are you, Mr. Philley? (Shaking 
hands.) 

Jack. I'm always well, thank you. 

Rev. D. That's good. (Sits lounge.) 

Mrs. D. Very good. (Sits beside him on lounge.) 

Jack. I must hurry on down to the office, Mrs. Weeden. 
You will give Beth the book? 

Mrs. W. Certainly. She will be so disappointed not to 
see you. (Turns to Rev. D. and Mrs. D.) She thinks 
so much of Jack, you know. (Turns to Jack.) But she 
is very busy in her room this morning. Beth is always 
such a great help to me. (Jack bozvs, exits R.) 

Rev. D. I wouldn't have thought she cared for house- 
work. 

Mrs. D. No, indeed. Not a bit for housework. 

Mrs. W. O she has a great taste for it and is very skill- 
ful and neat and tidy. I do not know what I should do 
without Beth. (They exchange glances.) 



68 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Rev. D. We called this morning-, Sister Weeden, be- 
cause we heard that you were not well. 

Mrs. D. (nodding). That you were sick. 

Mrs. W. {amazed). Sick? Me sick? 

Rev. D. Exactly. 

Mrs. D. Precisely. 

Mrs. W. Well, I can't understand that, I am sure. I 
am never sick. I hardly know what the word means. 

Rev. D. {slightly embarrassed). We were afraid the 
overwork of yesterday — 

Mrs. D. And the worry — 

Mrs. W. {to Rev. D.). Overwork? Pardon me, Brother 
Dunning, but I really can't understand. I never have to 
work hard. My work is always done up, as you can see 
for yourself. {Waving hand to room.) How can I have 
much to do myself, when my family is so very helpful 
and my servants so trusty and willing? 

Rev. D. {embarrassed). Ahem! I — 

Mrs. W. {to Mrs. D.). As to worry. Sister Dunning, 
why, I haven't a single thing in the world to worry about. 
I have everything I want, just as I want it, the nicest home, 
the kindest, most devoted husband, the best-mannered and 
most thoughtful children in town. What could I possibly 
find to worry about? {They exchange glances again.) 

Rev. D. {pityingly) . Does your head ache*? 

Mrs. D. Don't you feel dizzy? 

Mrs. W. Headache? Dizzy? Should say not. I feel as 
young and light and gay as any young girl. What can you 
mean ? 
• Rev. D. Why, you don't seem quite natural. 

Mrs. D. Not quite yourself. 

Mrs. W. I assure you, I feel very natural, indeed, and 
altogether myself. 

Enter Beth, R. 

Beth. Are you all right. Mamma? O how are you, 
Rev. and Mrs. Dunning? 

Rev. D. and Mrs. D. {together, bowing). Good morning, 
Miss Beth. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 69 

Beth. I did not know you were here. I was just work- 
ing in my room. 

Mrs. W. Yes, dear, I was just telling Brother and 
Sister Dunning what a help you have always been to me, 
so industrious, so neat, so tidy — 

Beth (uneasily). Mamma! 

Mrs. W. And, by the way. Jack was just here. He left 
this book. (Hands it.) 

Beth (taking it). Jack! 

Mrs. W. Yes. He was sorry not to see you, and I told 
him how disappointed you would be, too, but he had to 
hurry. 

Beth. Yes. (Sits chair near L., turning leaves of hook 
idly in embarrassment.) 

Mrs. W. (to Rev. D, and Mrs. D.). I have always 
been so pleased over the attachment between Beth 
and Jack. They never can endure being out of one 
another's company very long, you know. And Jack's such 
a fine young man — the nicest boy I have ever known any- 
where. Some girls might flirt around with other fellows, 
and worry their parents . half to death over undesirable 
associations, but we never have to think of that for a 
moment with our Beth. She is always so devoted and so 
true to her old playmate. (Beams on Beth.) 

Rev. D. (astounded). Indeed! 

Mrs. D. Really? 

Rev. D. And are you going to join the choir, Miss Beth? 

Mrs. D. Of course you won't think of disappointing 
us all by refusing, Miss Beth? (She does not anszver, does 
not even look up.) 

Rev. D. You are surely going to sing? 

Mrs. D. To sing for the church? 

Beth (looks helplessly first at Mrs. W., then at them). 
\\'hy, I — I — guess so. 

Mrs. W. Why, of course she is. Beth loves to sing, and 
slie so thoroughly enjoys all church work, you know. 

Rev. D. (rising uneasily). Indeed! 

Mrs. D. (rising uneasily). Really? 

Rev. D. (beaming on Beth). So glad to hear it. 



70 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. D. Delighted, Miss Beth. 

Mrs. W. (rising). Must you go? 

Rev. D. Yes, we are in a hurry. 

Mrs. D. Very much of a hurry. 

Rev. D. (turns to door). And so — 

Mrs. D. (follozvs). We must. 

Rev. D. (turning back at door). I do hope you will not 
be sick, sister. 

Mrs. D. (clinging to his arm). Yes, yes — sick, or — or — 
or — anything else. 

Mrs. W. O there's no danger of my ever behig sick, 
or — or — anything, I assure you. I am too well, too happy, 
and altogether too blessed in my splendid home, sny per- 
fect pattern of a husband, and my model children, to ever 
have any excuse for being anything but ridiculously well. 
The very idea! (Laughs merrily.) 

Rev. D. (dubiously). Well, good morning. 

Mrs. D. Good morning. 

Mrs. W. I'll go to the hall door with you. (Accompa- 
nies them out.) 

Beth (follows to door R. and looks out after them, in 
despair). O dear! It just seems to get worse and v/orse! 
It is certainly hopeless ! What can we do ? Mamma knows 
I hate to sing in public, knows how I abominate church 
work, and how I abhor — yes, abhor — yes, actually detest. 
Jack Philley any more ; and yet, somehow, there's some- 
thing or other about her this morning that I don't dare 
oppose, or even contradict. Surely she has found out by 
this time, too, that I like — like Chip — has it all been too 
much for her mind ? Is she crazy ? Can she be ? My room is 
in tip-top order for the first time in a century, anyway, so 
she can take all the women in town there, if she likes ; 
but — whew ! maybe I'm not tired ! It's more work than 
I've done before in months. (Sighs.) But I'll be tireder 
yet before night, if I have to keep on trying to live up to 
the character she's been giving me all the morning. I feel 
like she must have been feeling all these days when she kept 
saying, ''O dear, dear, dear, dear!" I do wish I knew 
what became of my glove. It is so strange. I would like 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 71 

to ask Suke about it, but I don't dare now after all Mamma 
said about her honesty. Humph ! One glove wouldn't be 
much use to her, anyway ; but I'll not say a word to her, 
of course — not a word. But that glove — that glove. 
(Walks toward L., musing.) 

Chip, sneaking in from kitchen, zvhispering cautiously. 

Chip. Beth ! 

Beth (turning, startled). Chip! 

Chip (looking all around slyly). 'Sh! Saw the old 
woman talking with the parson and his stronger half at 
the front door, so I sneaked in the back. See? Thought I 
could catch you. 

Beth. But, Chip, it is a great risk. 

Chip. Risk? Rats! "Faint heart never won fair lady — 
nothing ventured, nothing gained — all's fair in love and 
war," old girl ! Those are the Golden Texts at my Sunday 
School. 

Beth. But, Chip, listen. We're all so worried. Mamma 
isn't — isn't — well ; she isn't quite well — mentally, you 
know. We're a little afraid she may be — er — 

Chip, Bughouse? 

Beth. Chip! 

Chip. Well, I thought by the spiel that she put up to 
me this morning* that she had wheels in her upper story 
all right. 

Beth. Chip! 

Chip (enjoying shocking her). Bats in her belfry, you 
know, and all that, or else she was laying an almighty cute 
blufif. 

Beth. Chip! 

Chip. I tried to call the bluff, but no go. She stuck to 
the game till the last card was played, and I passed. Now, 
Beth, I've got to sneak, you know, but — hang it all, old 
e^irl — when can I see you? 

Beth (distressed). I don't know, Chip. It will be very 
hard till — till — we are sure that Mamma is — is — all right. 
She feels so bad about it — and she thinks so much of Jack, 
you know. I don't dare oppose her. 



72 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Chip (more loudly than before). Rats! 

Beth, (zvith uneasy glance tozvard R. door). 'Sh! 

Chip. But, dodgast it all, I tell you I've got to — 

Beth. 'Sh! 

Chip. Where'll you be tonight? 

Beth {making wry face). Choir practice. 

Chip {whistles in surprise). Gee! Choir? That's a hot 
one! 

Beth. I know, but — I must — I just must! 

Chip. Well, I'll hang 'round the gospel blow-out, then. 

Beth. O Chip, you musn't! 

Chip {imitating her). But I must! I just must! And 
I'll see you, some way, if I have to kidnap you. You 
know what them tragic guys say at the ten-cent shows — 
by fair means or by foul ! 

Beth. 'Sh! 

CiiiP. I'm of¥ now. But I'll see you tonight, sure. So 
long! {Exits.) 

Beth {walking back tozvard R.). Gracious! This is a 
pretty state of things, I must say! I musn't see him against 
Mamma's orders. Why, I never actually disobeyed her in 
my life, and I certainly shan't begin now for a hundred 
thousand Chip Whitneys ! It isn't a bit right in him to 
insist. {Paces back and forth nervously.) How do I 
really feel about Chip, anyway? Sometimes he almost re- 
pels me. Again he really fascinates me. Is this love — 
really true love? If it is, why, of course, it is excuse 
enough for anything — everything — that might happen. 
What is it Mamma says so much? "Love save my soul!" 
Love — save — my — soul ! It means a big lot, that's sure. 
Yes, if it is really love, it can't be really wTong to meet 
Chip secretly, when I can't meet him any other way, for 
love will save my soul! Yes, if it is love — but is it? I wish 
I knew. But — I did have such good times with Jack once, 
and he was always so good and so polite to me — used me 
so like a real lady. And Chip — O is it love? I don't know! 
I don't know! Love save my soul!! {Sinks in lounge.) 

Enter Mrs. W., R. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETU. IZ 

Mrs. W. I am so glad, dear, to have you In the choir, 
where you can do some good with your sweet voice. And 
Jack will be, too. It is such a comfort to me to have you 
so fond of that dear, noble boy — and he of you. (Walks 
to door L.) 

Beth (aside). Love save my soul! 

Enter Suke, R. 

SuKE (Iwlding apron in front of her, filled zvith all 
kinds of articles). If yo' done please, Mum — 

Mrs. W. and Beth (together). Why, Suke! 

SuKE. I jest done wants to brung back to you-uns all 
de t'ings I'se — I'se — I'se — borrowed. 

Mrs. W. and Beth {together). Borrowed? 

Suke. Yas'h, please Mum — borrowed — ebbah since I 
done comed to dis heah place. I'se gwine to be more keer- 
ful to brung 'em right straight back aftah dis heah — I done 
tells yo'. (Dumps things in heap on lounge.) 

Beth. O my lace handkerchief. 

Suke. Yas'm. It suah am. 

Mrs. W. My black scarf! 

Beth. Dolly's blue ribbon, and your white apron, 
Mamma ! 

Suke. Yas'm. 'Spects dat am right. 

Mrs. W. Olive's fancy hairpin she lost last month ! 

Beth. Will's scarfpin! 

Mrs. W. Your father's charm, Beth! He thought he 
left it down town. 

Suke (meekly). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. and Beth (together). Dolly's dollar! (Suke 
hangs head.) 

Beth (pazving things over). O so many things we 
thought were lost! 

Suke (sadly). Yas'm. I jes' done borrowed 'em, please 
Mum. I done seemed to forget to brung 'em back afore. 

Mrs. W. Well, Beth, we won't take time to look them 
all over now. It is so good of you, Suke, to be so particu- 
lar to bring back every single thing. Some girls would 
have forgotten, but you are so honest, so truthful. 



74 AS A WOMAN THINKETH 

SuKE {eagerly). Yas'm. 

Mrs. W. Take them all up to my room now, Suke, and 
we'll sort them after luncheon. 

Suke. Yas'm. {Gathers them up again in her apron. 
Exits R.) 

Beth. But my glove wasn't among them. So Suke 
couldn't have taken it. It is so strange. What could have 
become of that glove? 

Mr. W. {ojf R.). Come right in this way, doctor. 

Enter Mr. W., R., with Dr. Hume. 

Mrs. W. (goes to meet them). So glad to see you. Dr. 
Hume. {They shake hands. Mr. W. throzvs hat, gloves, 
overcoat and muffler on lounge.) 

Dr. Hume {zvatching her closely). I'm certainly glad 
to come, Mrs. Weeden. You see, Charles William and I 
had some business and we couldn't get it all out of the way 
before luncheon, so here I am. I didn't want to make you 
so much trouble, but — • 

Mrs. W. No trouble at all, doctor. Not the least. It is 
never any trouble to us to have an extra guest or two at 
table. My house, you know, is always in perfect order. 
Charles William and the children are all such a help in 
keeping things picked up, and — (Mr. W. slyly picks up his 
things from the lounge and carries them out R., zvalking 
on tip-toe.) 

Dr. H. Yes, yes. I know! Of course! Of course! {Looks 
helplessly around for Mr. W., ivJio tip-toes in at R.) 

Mr. W. Your cheeks are as red as roses, Nettie. You 
haven't a fever, have you? 

Mrs. W. a fever? Of course not. 

Dr. H. That's right, Charles William. {Speaks with 
great assumption of gayety, hut it plainly shozvs itself to 
he forced for effect.) Work me up a case if you can. 
Just let me see your tongue and feel your pulse, Mrs. 
Weeden. 

Mrs. W. {shiits lips tightly together and puts hands 
hehind hack). Nonsense! 

Dr. H. No? Well, I won't insist, of course. But prac- 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 75 

tice isn't very brisk just now — all my patients are getting 
well on my hands — and I've got to do something to keep 
out of the poorhouse, you know. 

Mrs. W. Sorry for you, Dr. Hume. You look badly 
reduced. But no pills and powders here. I'm so well and 
so happy, I suppose I really ought to feel ashamed of 
myself. But you know how Charles William and the chil- 
dren have always spoiled me. Think of it, Doctor. What 
a blessing it is to be married almost twenty-one years — 
isn't it twenty-one, Charles William? and never to have a 
single quarrel — not a solitary cross or unpleasant word! 
Isn't it grand to think of? Why, such harmony in the 
home would make any woman above all worry and sick 
thoughts, you know. How could I be sick? (Smiles ten- 
derly on Mr. W., zvho zvatches her uneasily.) 

Dr. H. Yes, yes. Of course. You are right, of course. 

Mr. W. Come out into the sitting-room Doc, and wait 
till luncheon is ready. We'll talk things over. (Looks at 
him significantly and leads the zvay out L. door.) 

Enter Dolly, R. 

Dolly (meets Mrs. W.'s bland smile and begins to zvalk 
on tip-toe in frightened way). O Mamma, it's a cinch— 
I mean, it's no joke — I mean it's quite sure that I'm dog- 
goned — I mean I'm very hungry. We had an exam today 

—I mean a quiz er — an examination — and it's all to 

the good — I mean, it's almost certain that I'm to be pro- 
moted. Now, wouldn't that make you sit up and take 
notice? — er — I mean, Mamma, wouldn't that please you? 

Mrs. W. It certainly does please me, Dolly. But then, 
I am always proud of my little girl. And with such good 
reason. She is so choice of her language, and so lady-like 
and refined in her manners. (Pats her cheek.) I can al- 
ready see what a splendid woman she will some day make. 
(Mr. W. and Dr. H. have been at door at L. and have 
listened unobserved.) 

Enter Will, R., Mr. W. and Dr. H., L. 

Will (runs in R., checks himself and comes to Mrs. 
W. on tip-toe). Are you all right. Mamma? 



76 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Mrs. W. All right? Why, of course. Doctor, haven't 
you read lately the dangers our young boys are in from 
the cigarette evil? 

Dr. H. Of course. It is one of the greatest menaces to 
the health and development of the rising generation. 

Mrs. W. (goes to Mr. W. and takes his arm, smiling 
at him fondly). O Charles William, aren't you glad our 
dear boy is safe from it? Aren't we happy to have 
him too strong, and high, and good and manly to be even 
tempted into the sort of company that have such bad 
habits ? 

Mr. W. Of course. (Will hangs head, walks about 
nervously, hands in pockets.) 

Enter Olive, R. 

Olive (runs in R.). O Mother! 

Mrs. W. Yes, Olive. 

Olive. Are you all right? 

Mrs. W. All right? What can you all mean? Of course 
I'm all right. 

Olive. How do you do, Dr. Hume. (Shakes hands zvith 
him.) I just wanted to tell you, Mother, that I took my 
new silk dress back to Marston's this morning and ex- 
changed it for new sheets, pillow cases, towels, tablecloths 
and napkins, and I got a splendid supply of good, service- 
able household linen, which you know I was very badly 
in need of, while I didn't really need the dress at all. 

Mrs. W. I know, Olive, and it pleases me so much to 
have you always so sensible and economical. You have no 
idea what a saving and thrifty housewife my daughter is, 
Doctor. 

Dr. H. No, no. Of course. Glad to hear it — very glad. 

Mrs. W. Yes, indeed. If she had been wasteful or ex- 
travagant, like some women, I don't know what I'd do. 
But I am really proud of her. (Pats her shoidder, smiling 
at her.) 

Dolly (aside to Beth). Has she kept up that crazy 
smile all day? 

Beth (anxiously). All day. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 11 

Olive. And do you know, Mother, Caleb has got such 
an industrious fit on ever since he came over here this 
morning. Why, he's done more today already than I've 
known him to do for months together! 

Mrs. W. Caleb is naturally ambitious. 

All (m amazement). Ambitious? 

Mrs. W. He loves work. 

All {as before) . What? 

Mrs. W. And he always keeps things up so nice around 
the house. 

All (m dismay). O dear! (Dr. H. and Mr. W. at L., 
Mrs. W. and Olive at C, Beth and Dolly at R., Will 
beside fireplace, looking into it.) 

Enter Suke^ from kitchen. 

SuKE. Yo' luncheon am done ready now, Mum, out in 
de dining-room. 

Mrs. W. All right, Suke. Won't you stay, Olive? 

Olive. No, I must get back to give Caleb his lunch. 
(Starts R. When she passes Beth, speaks aside.) Watch 
her carefully, Beth. (Beth nods.) 

Mrs. W. Don't wait for me, Charles William. (Follozus 
Olive out R.) 

Mr. W. Well, Doc, for heaven's sake tell us what you 
think about her! (All come closer, listen anxiously.) 

Dr. H. Charles William, it looks serious — mighty serious. 
Some of the symptoms are positively alarming — startling. I 
have fears — grave fears. 

All. O dear! (Looking at one another.) 

Mr. .W. But what can we do? 

Dr. H. Well, first you must keep very close watch of her 
day and night for signs of violence. 

All (in alarm). Violence? 

Dr. H. One never knows what form this aftiiction may 
take. It's wisest to be prepared for anything. (Myste- 
riously.) 

All. O dear! 

Dr. H. Above all, never oppose her in the least thing. 



7^ AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Humor every little whim. Let her have her own way, no 
matter how absurd, and — and — 

All {eagerly). Yes? 

Dr. H. Hope for the best, but — (shakes head porten- 
tously) — prepare for the worst. 

All. O dear! 

Dr. H. {hand on Mr. Weeden's shoulder). It is a sad 
affliction, my friend, but bear up bravely. 

Mr. W. I'll try. You'll keep an eye on her, Doc? 

Dr. H. Sure, old man. I'll stand by you, whatever may 
develop. Put it there. {They shake hands.) 

Mr. W. Well, we must go to luncheon. Come right out 
through this way, Doc. {Leads out through kitchen door. 
All follozv but Beth.) 

Beth {after zvatching them off). We mustn't oppose her. 
We must humor her. We must let her have her way. Then 
I can't see Chip — I musn't — I shan't — and I won't ! I'll 
write him a note and tell him just how it is. I'll ask him to 
wait — wait a week, two weeks, three weeks — a month, three 
months. O dearJ Maybe a year — ten years — until we know 
Mamma is cured — completely cured! If he really thinks me 
worth having, he'll surely think me worth, waiting for. 
O Chip! Chip! Love save my soul! {Exits through kitchen, 
after pause.) 

Enter Will, R., looks all around, slyly takes cigarettes 
from pocket and throzvs them in fire. 

Will. Darned old cigarettes. That's the last of them 
things, forever and ever. Amen! {Exits, L.) 

Enter Mrs. W., R., just in time to see and hear him with- 
out his seeing her. 

Mrs. W. It has commenced to come true already — the 

beautiful, beautiful fairy tale of the Subconscious Mind! 

They seem to think I am losing my mind. Humph ! On the 

contrary, I am just finding it ! ''According to your faith 

be it unto you." Yes, yes. And it's all true. {Starts out 

kitchen.) "According to your faith." ''According to your 

faith." ^ 

Curtain. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 79 



Act III. 

Scene: Same as Act I, except that the room is in per- 
fect order. The setting is exactly in accordance zvith Scene 
Plot. The lounge is piled zvith evergreen houghs, ivreaths 
of ivy or any decorative green stuff that may be available, 
either natural or artiiicial. Have places previously selected 
and prepared for the hanging of each decoration, to avoid 
all awkwardness. 

Curtain rises disclosing Olive, Beth, Dolly and Will 
on stage. Olive and Beth are holding one long string of 
green betzueen them, looking around room for a suitable 
place for it. Will is fastening smaller decorations on zvall, 
etc., at R. Dolly is by lounge, sorting them over and 
handing them to Will as he needs them. 

Olive. Where shall we put it? 

Beth (points tip at motto over archway). Over the 
motto. 

Olive. No. I'm sure that's where Caleb will want to 
hang his flag". 

Will (looking around over shoulder). Why not over 
the piano? 

Beth and Olive (together, pointing). There! 

Will. Sure. 

Beth. It would look nicely there, I think. (Starts to 
step on chair to climb to piano.) 

Olive. Yes ; but can you reach ? 

Beth. Easily — from the piano. (Climbs up.) Now let 
me have it. 

Olive (looks anxiously tozvard door R.). I do hope we 
can get all fixed up before ]\Iamma comes home. 

Dolly. O we can, all right. We told Papa to keep her 
out as long as he possibly could. 

Olive. Isn't it ridiculous the way those two old married 
folks have gone back twenty-one years to their spooney 
days? (Biisy with decorations.) 

Beth. It may be ridiculous, but I like it. 



80 . AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Olive. O so do I. 

Dolly. We all seem to enjoy it with them. 

Will. It's naughty, but it's nice. 

Olive. Papa seems like a different man. 

Beth. ^ 

Dolly. [ (together). He is! 

Will. ) 

Olive. But, for that matter, you all seem different. 

Will. How about yourself? 

Dolly. And Caleb? 

Olive. Guilty. It is really a miracle the way this whole 
blessed family has been transformed. 

Beth. Isn't it? How's that, Olive? 

Olive (surveying zvreath critically). Fine! 

Beth. As for Mamma, do you know I think we're just 
beginning to get acquainted with our real Mamma. 

Will. That's just it, Beth. 

The Others. Of course. 
^ Beth. Hand me some more of the green, Olive, while 
I'm up here. 

Olive (handing her a piece). Have you seen Chip Whit- 
ney lately, Beth? 

Beth. No. Not since the morning w^e had that scare 
about Mamma, and summoned the doctor post haste. 
Wasn't that funny? 

Dolly. It didn't seem so very funny then. 

Will. Should say not. 

Beth. How long ago was it? It seems like months. 

Olive. It isn't, though. It is just — let me see — it was 
the day after I bought that pale blue silk. (Counts on 
fingers.) One, two, three weeks. 

Dolly. Only three weeks? My! 

Will. A whole lot can happen in three weeks? 

Dolly. Should say so. 

Beth. Well, speaking of Chip, he sneaked in here that ' 
morning, and he was bound he would hang around the 
church that night and see me after choir practice. 

Olive. The very idea ! 

All (after a pause). Well? 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 81 

Beth. Of course, you know what the doctor said about 
our humoring Mamma in everything. 

All. Yes. 

Beth. So I didn't know what to do. I — I — I — 

All. Yes ? 

Beth. Well, I just wrote him a firm, decided note — 
maybe it didn't hurt to have to do it. 

Olive {sympathetically) , I know, Beth. 

Dolly. And what did you tell him, Beth? 

Beth. Why, I just told him plainly that he simply 
mustn't follow me, anywhere at all, for I positively 
couldn't and wouldn't see him till — till — till — you know. 

Olive. Good for you, Beth. 

Beth. Fortunately, the place for choir meeting was 
changed that very night, so we didn't meet at the church, 
and he couldn't have found me very easily if he had tried. 

Will. And how did he take the note, Beth ? Did he come 
up to the scratch like a man? 

Beth. I don't know. 

All. Don't know ! 

Beth. No, I really don't know what to think of the way 
he's done. 

All. Why? 

Beth. Why, almost ever since, he's — he's — 

Olive. Wliat, Beth? 

Beth. Well, he's managed to bother and worry me a 
lot, in spite of all I had said and written. 

Will. Bothered? (Beth nods.) 

Dolly. W^orried? (Beth nods.) 

Olive. But how? 

Beth. O lots of ways. 

Olive. Such as — 

Beth. Sending notes, for one thing. 

Olive. Notes? (Beth nods.) By whom? 

Will. Me! 

Dolly, And me ! 

Beth. And even Jotham. 

Olive. Humph! (Disgustedly.) 

Beth. More green, please, a piece for this corner. 



82 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Olive (hands piece). Will this do? (Beth nods.) Well, 
how else did he worry you, Beth? 

Beth. O Chip! Why, he sneaked around and tried to 
bribe Suke to let him in to see me. 

Olive. Pshaw ! 

Beth. And he'd hang around the yard, and porch, and 
hedge at night, when I was going out or coming in. 

Dolly (shuddering). Mercy! 

Beth. But I never saw him. 

Dolly. Then how did you know ? 

Beth. O I heard him — sensed him — I felt his presence 
— I can't explain, but — you know, Olive. 

Olive. Yes, I understand. It was abominable of him. 

Will (aside, to Dolly). They say he's running around 
with Alice Derby now. 

Dolly (looking around at Beth^ apprehensively). 'Sh ! 

Olive. And now, Beth, what are you going to do? 

Beth. I — don't — know. 

All. Don't know? 

Beth. No. I -just can't make up my mind. (Sighs.) I 
don't know what I ztrant to do — that's the worst of it. 

All. Why? 

Beth. Well, you see, I — I — 

All (eagerly). Yes? 

Beth. I like Chip. I just can't help it, and — 

All. Pshaw ! 

Beth. Well, I do, and I won't deny the truth. But still 
I don't think he's done just right not to do as I asked him 
to about this, when he knew how worried we all were 
about Mamma. 

Olive (scornfidly). Should say not. 

Beth. And yet I can't feel that I'm doing right by him 
to make him wait any longer, when there is really no 
excuse — 

Olive. Humph ! 

Beth. So — so — I'll just have to talk it all over with 
Mamma, and I shall do exactly as she says. 

All. Good for you ! 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 83 

Beth. If I only knew which I feel for him — whether 
I love him or hate him most. (Aside.) 

Olive. ]\Iamma will know how to settle it. 

Beth. Yes, of course. Somehow, I feel that Mamma 
knows me really better than I know myself. 

Olive. ^ 

Will. >• (Together.) Me too. 

Dolly. ) 

Beth. Isn't it wonderful? (Finishes arranging zvreath.) 
How's that? 

All. Fine ! 

Will. And how are these? 

All. Splendid ! 

Beth. More, Olive, please. For here, and here, you see. 
(Olive hands it.) 

Caleb comes in R. with large flag, folloived by Jotham. 
They both zvalk briskly, moving and speaking throughout 
with an alertness of manner quite different from their for- 
mer shiftless habit. 

Caleb. Ready for the flag? 

Olive. Any time. 

Caleb. Wh.ere'll you have it? 

Beth. Any place. 

Olive. You know best where you want it, Cale. 

Caleb (after surveying the room). Over the archway, 
I guess. 

Jotham {pointing to motto). Up there? 

All (nodding). Yes. 

Jotham. Then you'll need a step-ladder. I get him. 
(Runs out L.) 

Caleb. I hope it won't take him long. Perhaps I'd bet- 
ter have gone myself for it. I have so much work to finish 
up before night I mustn't waste a minute. 

Olive. Caleb is so busy all the time lately I can hardly 
get a glimpse of him. 

Caleb. Have to be, Olive. That's what brings our 
bread and butter. 

Will. Hasn't he come out fine? (To Dolly, aside.) 



84 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Dolly. I should say he had. He's just woke up after a 
long nap, that's all. 

Beth. How does everything look, Cale, as far as we have 
gone ? 

Caleb (looking around). Bully! {Then looks at Beth, 
iniscJiievously.) Especially the statue on the piano. 

Will. That's no dead one, Cale. 

Dolly. It's a life-sized living picture. 

Olive. An automatic image. 

Beth. Thanks, everybody. (Bozvs low.) HI had time 
I'd make you a speech, but business is pressing. 

Will. You .uean hanging, don't ycni? 

Beth (szuccfly). Exactly, little brother. Thank you. 

Caleb (looking around again). Won't Mother be 
pleased? I'm making her a music cabinet — Jotham and I 
together. 

All. Good ! 

Olive. Will you be able to finish it today? 

Caleb. O yes ; we must. I hope she'll like it. 

Beth. Like it? 

Will. Don't you worry. 

Dolly. She'll be crazy about it. 

Beth. Well, if it doesn't turn out any worse than it 
did when she went crazy over her "home, husband and 
family," we certainly won't call in the doctor. 

Olive. Nor the preacher. 

All (emphatically). No! 

Enter Jotham, L., zvith step-ladder. 

JoTHAM. Here he is! I find him! (Carries ladder to 
position. Caleb mounts, carrying flag. Doorbell rings.) 

Dolly. The bell! 

Olive. Company ! 

Beth. And me on the piano. 

Will. What do you care? It's your piano — and you are 
you ! 

Caleb. I haven't time to stop work and get down. 

All. Of course not. 

Enter Suke, R., followed by Rev. D. and Mrs. D. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 85 

SuKE. Massa and Missus Dunning-, chill'ens. 

All. All right. 

Rev. D. What are you doing? 

Mrs. D. Yes, what in the world? 

Olive. Why, this is Mother's birthday, you know, and 
we're just planning a little family surprise for her. Won't 
you sit down ? 

Rev. D. (looking around). No. 

Mrs. D. We mustn't. 

Rev. D. Where is your mother? 

Mrs. D. Yes, where is she? 

Olive. Out driving. 

Beth. With Papa. 

Rev. D. We just came in — 

Mrs. D. Yes, just came in. 

Olive {inquiringly). Yes? 

Beth (inquiringly). Just came in? 

Rev. D. (uncertainly). Well, we had heard so many 
queer things about Sister Weeden lately — 

^Irs. D. (nodding emphatically). Yes, very queer things 
about her. 

Beth. Queer things? 

Olive. About Mamma? 

Dolly. Our Mamma? 

Rev. D. We thought we'd better come and see — 

Mrs. D. See for ourselves. 

Rev. D. But — (looks helplessly at Mrs. D.) 

Mrs. D. (shaking head). I don't know. 

Rev. D. Is she perfectly well? 

Mrs. D. And all right? 

Olive, Indeed she is — as well as can be. 

Beth. And very much all right. 

Dolly. Perfectly lovely ! 

Will. Just dandy ! 

Calei; (from ladder). How's that? 

All the Famh.v. \^ery good! 

Rev. D. (/;/ great astonishment). Why, if it isn't Cale 
Mead! 

Mrs. D. (ama/:ed). Cale Mead — at work! 



86 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

• Caleb (coming dozvn from ladder). How do you do, 
Rev. Dunning — and Mrs. Dunning? (Shakes hands with 
each in turn.) 

Rev. D. (mystified). Why, is it actually the real Cale 
Mead— 

Mrs. D. Or somebody who looks exactly like him? 

Caleb (laughing). O I'm the real thing, all right. 

Rev, D. This is certainly a surprise. 

Mrs. D. a great surprise ! 

Caleb. I couldn't come down before — from the ladder, 
you know. I hadn't the time to spare. I am very busy — ■ 

Rev. D. Busy? 

Mrs. D. You ? 

Caleb (indignantly). Of course! (Turns to others.) 
Well, girls, when you want anything more of me, just 
whistle. (Goes R.) You'll find me pounding away in our 
woodshed. 

All. All right. 

JoTHAM (calls). I'll jest take this here step-ladder back 
to the barn, Mr. Caleb, and then I'll come to — 

Caleb (off R.). All right, Jotham! Hurry! 

JoTHAM (going out L. zvith step-ladder). I am so bright 
— so smart — I can do anything. (Exits.) 

Rev. D. (piizded). I don't understand — 

Mrs. D. Don't understand at all. 

Rev. D. (meditatively). Everybody says — 

Mrs. D. Yes, everybody in town. 

Rev. D. (looking around). But — things look different to 
me than I expected. 

Mrs. D. O very much, difTerent. 

Rev. D. (turns to door). I guess we'd better go. 

Mrs. D. (follozuing). Yes, go at once. 

Rev. D. And come again some time. 

Mrs. D. Yes, when Sister Weeden is at home. 

Rev. D. It was her — 

Mrs. D. We came to see. 

Rev. D. And then we'll be able to judge — (turning hack 
from door.) 

Mrs. D. Yes, judge for ourselves. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 87 

Olive. I'm sure Mamma will be disappointed that she 
did not see you today. But we told Papa to give her a nice 
long ride, so \ye could be all through with our decorating 
before she returned. 

Rev. D. You will be at the concert tonight, Mrs. Mead? 

Mrs. D. Of course — the Beethoven concert? 

Olive. No! 

Rev. D. No? 

Mrs. D. Why not? 

Olive. I can't afford it. 

Rev. D. Can't afford it? 

Mrs. D. You? 

Olive. No, really, I can't. To be sure, it isn't much, 
but Caleb and I are repairing our house, and every little 
counts, you know ; so I must economize and be as saving 
in these little things as I can. 

Rev. D. Economize — you? 

Mrs. D. Saving? Olive Mead? (They twit, R.^ shaking 
heads in wonder.) 

Olive (laughing) . I guess they think I'm crazy, too. 

Enter Suke, C. 

Suke. If yo please. Mum, am dis heah, yo' bwacelet? 

Olive (looking at it). Bracelet? No, it is not mine. 

Beth (climbing doivn from piano). Let me see, Suke. 
(Suke hands it to her.) O yes, I see. It's Cora Moore's. 
She had it on when she called last night. Where'd you get 
it, Suke? 

.Suke. I done fin' it in de hall jes' now, as I went to de 
doah. to answer de bell. 

Beth. All right. I'll see that Cora gets it right away. 

Olive. It seems to be very valuable. 

Beth. Yes. I'm glad you brought it to us right away, 
Suke. 

Suke. Yas'm. Suke am stwictly honest and twuthful, 
yo' know. She would nebbah tech a t'ing dat war not her 
l)erry own! (Backs out C. while speaking.) 

Dolly. Except my gum. That surely cured me of chew- 
ing the stuff all of a sudden. Ugh ! 



88 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Will (standing back with hands in pockets and survey- 
ing the room). Well, we seem to be about finished. 

Dolly. Looks nice, doesn't it? 

Will. Now I'll just take all the scraps out to the fire- 
place, and — (begi)!s to gather up the odds and ends.) 

Olive. And then you can go to the store for the re- 
mainder of our eatables. (Will exits C.) 

Dolly (stands in archzvay looking out C). And I'll go 
with you, Billy. 

Will. Sure you will. (From out C.) 

Beth. Then you can stop at Cora's, Dolly, and leave her 
bracelet. She'll probably be worried about it. Here it is. 
(Hands it.) 

Olive. Isn't it nice that Dolly and Will take such pleas- 
ure in being together? 

Beth. Yes, so much better than having them with some 
other school children in town. 

Dolly. Especially the boys that smoke those nasty cigar- 
ettes-ugh ! £„,^,. ^y^^L, C. 

Will. Or the girls who use slang. 

Beth and Olive (together, teasingly). Or chew gum. 
Dolly (zmth zury face). Ugh! (She and Will exit. R.) 
Olive. Well, Beth, we look very neat and tidy, I am 
sure, and now I think I must — 

Enter Mrs. P., R. 

Mrs. p. I met Will and Dolly on the porch and they 
said to come right in. All alone? Where's your mother? 

Beth. Out riding with Papa. 

Mrs. p. (sitting chair R.). Indeed! That's something 
new, isn't it? 

Olive. O they're having their honeymoon all over again 
these days. 

Beth. And it's too delicious ! 

Olive. Besides, you see, this is her birthday, and wc 
rather wanted her out of the way. (Sits.) 

Mrs. p. (looking around). I see. How nice you look in 
here. 

Betpi. Don't we? (Sits.) 



AS A WOMAN THLXKETH. 89 

Mrs. p. Is it really true, what I have heard? 

Girls (both). What? 

Mrs. p. Everybody in town is talking about you folks. 

Girls. Us? Why? 

Mrs. p. First, they said your mother had gone crazy — 
that she talked like a mad woman to everybody she saw, 
met or who called on her, or anything — but of course I 
knew that wasn't true ! 

Girls {indignantly, looking at each other). Should say 
not. 

Mrs. p. And now they've changed the story, and they 
say that some miracle has taken place and made your family 
all over new — even to the servants and the children — 
m.aybe the animals and fowls, for all I know. 

Olive. It's all talk, Mrs. Parker. Really, just gossip. 

Mrs. p. But you do seem so different — all of you. I 
can't help noticing it myself, whenever I see any of vou. 

Beth. But there was really no miracle about it, Mrs. 
Parker. That's absurd ! That is, unless it was Mamma's 
resolute belief in us and bur real goodness of heart. 

Mrs. p. {eagerly). Tell me. Was that honestly what 
made you over — and so soon? 

Olive. Nothing made us over ! Our better selves just be- 
gan to come to the surface — that's all. 

Beth. And only just began, too, as Olive says. We've 
lots and lots of things to rake away from the surface yet — 
rubbish of old dead thoughts, and wishes, and habits. But 
we've got a good start. 

Mrs. p. I just can't understand it. I believe in faith, 
and the force of desire, and the power of mind over mat- 
ter, and all that. And I have heard of people making them- 
selves all over new in a comparatively short time. But I 
have never in all my life heard of anybody's making a 
whole family over in three weeks before — and it is a 
miracle — a real miracle, however it looks to you. 

Olive. But I tell you, she hasn't made us over at all, 
Mrs. Parker. She just, with that big, broad, deep, moth- 
erly eye of hers saw the real true selves down deep inside 
of us, that we had covered up with a lot of bad habits, and 



90 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

worse thoughts ; habits and thoughts that we were honestly 
secretly ashamed of. Don't you see ? And she brought these 
real selves to the surface by literally forcing us to see them, 
too. That's all. 

Mrs. p. It's wonderful — simply wonderful, but — 
Beth. Here comes Mamma now! {They rise as — ) 

Mr. and Mrs. W. enter R. Mr. W. shakes hands with 
Mrs. p. quietly, but Mrs. W. does not see her. 

Mrs. W. (looking at decorations). O how nice — what 
does — 

Olive and Beth (together). Many happy returns of 
the day, Mamma ! 

Mrs. W. I declare ! It is my birthday ! Isn't it, now ? I 
had forgotten it was anywhere near. I seem to have been 
born all over again lately, anyway — born into a new 
world — a new life! (Turns and sees Mrs. P.) Why, 
Gertrude, I am so glad to see you ! (SJiakes hands with 
her.) Isn't this a glorious day, and isn't it splendid to be 
alive? (They converse in dumb shozv.) 

Olive. How does it look, Papa? 

Mr. W. Splendid ! You've done well, girls. 

Olive and Beth. Thanks. 

Beth. And did you have a nice ride? 

Mr. W. Glorious ! Your mother is as gay and charm- 
ing as a young girl again. 

Olive. O you lovers ! 

Beth. Papa, you've surely got it bad ! 

Mr. W. Guilty. That word reminds me, by the way, of 
a paragraph I want to read you from this morning's 
''Union. " Listen, girls — ladies. (Reads.) ''Charles Whit- 
ney, commonly called 'Chip,' for several months bartender 
at Gute's saloon, was arrested last night for burglary, 
caught in the very act, with several hundred dollars' worth 
of stolen jewels and silver upon his person." 

Beth. O Chip ! Chip ! (Runs to her mother, zvho com- 
forts her.) 

Mr. W. (resumes reading). "It appears that a certain 
young lady, to whom he had been paying attention for the 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 91 

past two weeks, is in some way seriously implicated in the 
disgraceful affair, as well as a number of young school- 
boys, already notorious for their cigarette-smoking and 
other vicious habits. The criminal is held in the county 
jail awaiting trial." 

Beth. O Mamma! Mamma! 

Mrs. W. (embracing her tenderly). How thankful w^e 
must all be that the young lady "seriously implicated in the 
disgraceful affair" was not our dear, innocent Beth ; nor our 
Will one of the schoolboys ! 

All. Yes, indeed! 

Beth. Who is the girl? Does anyone know? 

Mrs. p. It is Alice Derby, they say. 

Beth. Mamma, I know now ! I know now ! (Starts C. 
sadly, turns back at archzvay.) I'll — be — back — soon! 
(Looks up.) Love save my soul! (Exits C.) 

All. Poor girl! (Mrs. W. sloivly removes her hat, 
jacket, gloves, etc. Olive takes out C). 

Enter Dr. H., R., "unth bouquet of floivers. 

Dr. H. Who did that little bird tell me has a birthday in 
this family? 

Mrs. W. (taking flowers). O doctor, how thoughtful of 
you! Thank you! (Crosses to piano to place floivers in a 
vase.) 

Mr. W. Sit down, Doc. 

Dr. H. Can't stop. Just wanted to bring my nosegay 
and congratulations to the — I was about to say **bride." 

Enter Olive, R., talks aside to Mrs. P. and Mr. W. 

Mr. W. Say it, then. Doc. It fits. 

Dr. H. (crosses to Mrs. W.). They thought you needed 
a doctor, eh ? 

Mrs. W. (looking over shoulder at him archly). They 
seemed to. 

Dr. H. At the same time you thought the whole family 
needed a doctor, eh? 

Mrs. W. Something of the sort, maybe. (Looks dozvn 
bashfully.) 



92 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

Dr. H. And so you yourself undertook to apply psycho- 
logical treatments, eh? 

Mrs. W. (tnrning to face him). How did you know? 

Dr. H. O I finally got my eyes opened to the way the 
wind was blowing. I'm an old fogy, I know, but I'm not 
quite so far behind the times as you may think. 

Mrs. W. Well, doctor, hasn't it been a success? 

Dr. H. Unquestionably ! And I congratulate you. 

Mrs. W. Thank you. {They shake hands.) It was cer- 
tainly worth the effort. 

Dr. H. By all means. {Turns to others.) Well, I must 
go back to the office, or all my chronic cases will get well 
before I know it. {Walks R.) 

Mr. W. I'll go with you, Doc. {Kisses Mrs. W.) I'll 
be home at the earliest possible minute, Nettie. {Waves 
hand to others.) Good-bye, all. 

All. Good-bye. (Mr. W. and Dr. H. exit R.) 

Olive. I must go, too. Caleb is so busy today. 

Mrs. p. {astonished) . Caleb Mead busy? 

Olive. Yes, and he needs my help. We musn't miss be- 
ing back over here early for Mamma's birthday dinner. 

Mrs. W. No, indeed. 

JoTHAM looks in at L., then dodges hack. 

Olive. Wasn't that someone at the side door. Mamma? 
JoTHAM looks in again and dodges hack. 

Olive. Why, it's Jotham. 

Mrs. W. What is it, Jotham? Come in. 

Enter Jotham, L., zvith huge hunch of sunflozvers, tied 
zmth bright red ribbon, a huge bow. 

Jotham. Please, Mum, I — I — I — {grins zvith emharass- 
ment.) Here's these, Mum. I — I — I — picked 'em for your 
birthday, Mum. {Bozvs very azvkzvardly, but very lozv, 
holding out fiozvers.) 

Mrs. W. {taking them). O how nice! For my birthday! 
See, Gertrude ! Even Jotham remembered. 

Olive. Remembered? Should say so. He's been helping 
us all day. 

Mrs. W. How kind of you, Jotham. 



AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 93 

JOTHAM (nervously). Yes, ma'am. I picked 'em — every- 
one — all myself. No stingy little roses — or pansies — or any 
o' them little bits o' things — but nice big ones — and I 
bought the ribbon — see what a big one, ma'am, all myself, 
too — for your birthday. I knowed you'd like 'em. 

Mrs. W. Like them, Jotham? Indeed, I do. And see — 
I will put them in a vase on the piano, too. Won't they 
look nice? (Arranges in vase.) 

Jotham. Yas'm. (Grins broadly, hacks out L., eyeing 
flowers proudly.) I am so bright — so smart — I can do any- 
thing — anything! (Just at door stumbles and nearly falls, 
but bows low and gets safely off stage.) 

Mrs. W. (turns to the others). The birth of the beauty- 
love in an undeveloped soul, Gertrude. Is it not sweet? 

Mrs. p. Yes, I — I — I guess so. It must be. 

Olive. Well, here I am yet. I must — (starts R.) 

Mrs. p. You'll be at the Beethoven concert tomorrow 
night, of course, Olive? 

Olive. No, indeed ; it's to expensive for me. 

Mrs. p. Expensive? The tickets are high-priced, but you 
never mind that. 

Olive. Don't I? 

Mrs. p. Why, I never knew you to before. 

Olive. W^ell, this concert is too expensive altogether for 
people who must economize as Caleb and I have to, Mrs. 
Parker. Good-bye. (Exits R.) 

Mrs. p. How strange it seems to hear Olive talking of 
economy — and of Caleb's being busy ! 

Mrs. W. But it's true. And you should see the effect on 
Jotham and Suke, too. I tell you, Gertrude, it's marvel- 
ous! (Sits.) 

]\Irs. p. Is it really and honestly due to the subconscious 
mind, Nettie? 

Mrs. W. Of course — every bit. Didn't you tell me — 

Mrs. p. Yes, yes, I know, but T can hardly realize how 
you have done so \nuch with it in so short a time ! 

Mrs. W. I've been terribly in earnest, Gertrude. 

Mrs. p. You must have been. 

Mrs. W. And I've simply refused outright to see any- 



94 AS A WOMAN THINKETH. 

thing- at all, or anybody at all, from any point of view 
whatever but my own ideal one. 

Mrs. p. I see. It's wonderful, because — because — 

Mrs. W. Because what? 

Mrs. p. I came on purpose to tell you something start- 
ling. 

Mrs. W. Startling? 

Mrs. p. Positively overwhelming, Nettie. 

Mrs. W. About— 

Mrs. p. About Professor Baba Majarajah. 

Mrs. W. {enthusiastically). That wonderful man! 

Mrs. p. Wonderful ? Humph ! That's what we all 
thought at first, but — 

Mrs. W. But what? 

Mrs. p. He is an imposter! 

Mrs. W. Imposter ? Impossible ! 

Mrs. p. Yes, an imposter. Quite possible, I assure you, 
Nettie, and unmistakable. 

Mrs. W. But how? What? I don't understand. 

Mrs. p. He s no Hindu, at all — has never seen India. 

Mrs. W. Then who is he? 

Mrs. p. Merely a clever actor. He had learned his lec- 
tures well, and knew how to give them effectively, but you 
saw how he always fell flat in ordinary conversation, didn't 
you? xAnd — and — he just roped us all in. 

Mrs. W. But his teachings — his beautiful philosophy? 

Mrs. p. Of course, his theories were good — perfect — 
thg very best and highest of lofty truths, but the man was 
— was — well, mere negro, I guess. Isn't it mortifying? 

Mrs. W. a mere negro, you say? No, Gertrude — an im- 
mortal human soul, giving expression, as best he could, to 
the highest truth. Has he gone? 

Mrs. p. Forced to leave at once, when we found him out. 

Mrs. W. {after reflection). I don't care, Gertrude, as 
far as I am concerned, whether he was a Hindu or not. 

Mrs. p. You don't? 

Mrs. W. No. Why should I ? Wherever he came from, 
or whatever or whoever he was, he was a Hindu to me. 



AS A WOMAN TlIINKETli. 95 

because I thoroughly beheved him to be, and my subcon- 
scious mind so accepted him. 

Mrs. p. (bezmldered by such logic). Yes? 

Mrs. W. And even if his whole beautiful philosophy 
should have been a mass of pretty lies, concocted by his 
own fancy, it would still be truth to me, because I be- 
lieved it all so thoroughly that I made it come true. Don't 
you see? According" to my faith, it was done unto me. 

Mrs. p. Well, Nettie, I'm glad you take it so, for I 
was afraid you'd go all to pieces when you learned how 
you had been hoodwinked. (Rises.) 

Mrs. W. (rises). Hoodwinked? I? No, indeed! Who- 
ever or whatever he was, he helped me to find myself — my 
real self — and it is I who have done all the rest. 

Mrs. p. Well, I must hurry. I was just obliged to tell 
you first, because I introduced him to you, and I wanted 
you to know I had not meant to deceive you — (at door.) 

Mrs. W. Yes, yes. But I tell you, Gertrude, to me he is 
still the Hindu professor, my mental ideal, and all that he 
has done for me — or rather taught me to do for myself, 
and the family for which I am responsible, can never be 
correctly estimated, nor properly compensated by any hu- 
man agency. 

Mrs. p. Well, Nettie, I wish everybody else I introduced 
him to would feel a little that same way ; but — 

Mrs. W. Tell them for me, "As a woman thinketh in her 
heart, so is she." 

Mrs. p. Yes, yes. I know. And everybody, that comes 
within the spell of her influence, is, as that same woman 
thinketh — it seems to have been iii your case. 

Mrs. W. Of course. ^Aren't we all one — the great hu- 
man family? Isn't my family a vital part of my very 
being? And as to the professor, did not Shakespeare say, 
''There's nothing either good or bad, 
But thinking makes it so." 
Three weeks ago, G'ertrude, you were trying to teach that 
to me. Now — 

Mrs. p. Now you have been promoted far above me. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



96 



AS A WOMAN 



But (shaking hands), VW clir ■——3 ''343 ■"533^^^ e 

ladder, Nettie. 1 want to see it all as you see it, and — I 
can, and I will. Good-bye. 

Mrs. W. Good-bye. (Mrs. P. exits R.) Negro, in- 
deed! Of course he is a Hindu! ''As a woman thinketh 
in her heart" — (zvalks L. zvhile talking.) 

Enter Jack, R. 

Jack. Mrs. Weeden. 

Mrs. W. {turns, advances zvith outstretched hands). Ah, 
Jack ! 

Jack. I wonder if Beth will see me a minute? 

Mrs. W. Of course! 

Jack. I haven't bothered her — I've been patient. Now I 
feel she needs me. 

Mrs. W. She does, indeed. Jack. I'll call her. (Exits C.) 

Jack. How long it seems since Beth and I were so happy 
together ! Will it ever be that way again, I wonder ? Can 
it? Mrs, Weeden says it will, and whatever she says 
seems to have a magic way of coming true. O it must ! 

Beth (at C, looking through curtains). Do you want 
me, Jack? 

Jack. Haven't I always wanted you, Beth? (Holds out 
hands.) 

Enter Beth, C. 



Beth (takes his hands). I think I've 
senses for a few weeks. Jack. But — but 
to them, Jack — I've come back ! 

Jack (brokenly). Never mind now — 
— better than you think. (Feels pockets 
am sure — I — where is my handkerchief, I 
bli}ig for handkerchief, pulls out Beth's 

Beth (lays hand on it, looking up at 
complete understanding). O Jack! Jack 
glove ! 

Curtain. 



been out of my 
— I've come back 

I — I — understand 
azifkzuardly.) I — 
wonder? (Fum- 
glove.) 

him with sudden 
! My poor, lost 



